Patrick and the magic lamp
by YulianaHenderson
Summary: "It is not what is outside, but what is inside that counts." The story of Aladdin, told in the The Mentalist style. Will eventually be Jisbon, Rated K plus for minor language, AU and OOC. Like the tagline says, it's better inside! "Wish granted!"
1. Chapter One

**A/N: Okay, so... My mind is seriously messing with me right now. I don't even know why I came up with this, and why this is happening to me. I was only working (I work on the bread division of a supermarket, and for some reason I get the best inspiration from working, I dunno why) and then I imagined this one. I have been working on it for quite a long while now. Yet I wasn't really sure how to do it and all (most people would make short versions of the movies, but believe me, if you've seen the 1992 movie a lot, you will recognize a LOT of lines in this one, since I copied a lot of it), but I began writing and it was actually quite easy.**

**To make you eager to read the next chapter, I've put the line-up of who is who in this story at the beginning too. Hope I caught your attention with it :D.  
**

**And if you don't like it, I will stop writing it immediately :D.  
**

**But believe me, I feel genuinely nervous with posting this. Normally, I know that you guys are going to like it, but this time, I'm being thrown in the deep concerning your thoughts. It's a bit scary.  
**

**Disclaimer: This isn't entirely the same as Aladdin, since this is a The Mentalist version, but like I said, you while recognize a lot of the original script in this one. That is why I have to say, with capital letters I OWN ENTIRELY NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Not even my brain seems to be mine these days.**

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_**Patrick and the magic lamp**_** (based on the 1992 Disney Movie 'Aladdin')**

**Aladdin = Patrick Jane (Patrick)  
Genie = Rigsby and Cho (Wayne and Kimball, the Genies)  
Jafar = (Red) John  
Princess Jasmine = Lisbon (Princess Teresa)  
Abu = Van Pelt (Grace)  
Iago = Timothy Carter (Timothy)  
The Sultan = Minelli (Sultan Minelli)**

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Ah, hello and good evening to you, my worthy friend.

Please, please, come closer, and give this boring, long introduction a chance. I promise you, I won't disappoint you. After all, you're the one that read the summary of this story and decided to read it! No one can blame me.

There. You're settled?

Then welcome to Sacrabah! City of mystery, of enchantment, and the finest stories you could ever imagine. Lots of people have lots of backgrounds here, you know.

Want to hear one?

Oh, I don't know, I'm not sure if I'll-

Alright fine! I'll tell you, put down the gun! Just need to get the lamp and then we can start!

...

What do you say? _Just_ a lamp? Why, but stranger, this isn't _just_ a lamp! It once changed the course of a young man's life!

A young man who liked this lamp was more than what he seemed. A diamond in the rough.

I know, I know, kind of cryptic, but it was in the script. I needed to say it in order for you to understand where I'm going with this.

But you're hooked? Interested?

Good! It begins on a dark night, where a dark man waits, with a dark purpose...

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"But Boss, what if this idiot messes up? I genuinely want the money you promised m-"

John cut the imbecile off by pushing one hand over his mouth. Fortunately, their idiot didn't hear him, since he had not joined the two of them yet. If he did, John's stupid apprentice would die an unfortunate death here in the desert, and nobody would find out that he wasn't with the living anymore.

"Shut your mouth, Timothy, or you can whistle for your money, but you won't ever get it," John hissed, and the older man nodded, panic in his eyes.  
"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered.

John rolled his eyes.

The petty thief arrived at their discussed location, and an evil grin spread on John's face. The thief looked sinister enough to be one of John's men, yet John knew this moron could never join his team.

"You are late," he hissed, and the thief bowed down.  
"A thousand apologies."

"You have it?" John asked, and the thief nodded. He reached into his pockets, and grabbed the wanted item out of it.

"I do, my Master. I had to slit a few throats on my way, but I have it," the man said. John's evil smile spread, and he was about to take the treasure from the man, when the thief pulled back his arm and shook his head.

"First, my reward," he said. During their conversation, Timothy had moved to the other side of the man, and when the man pulled his hands behind his back, Timothy grabbed the treasure, and ran to John's side to give it. The thief stood there, confused. He hadn't expected John and his disciples to be so... sneaky.

"Trust me," John said, while reaching into his cloak to get what belonged with the just-earned treasure, "you'll get what I promised you."

He put them together, and at just that moment, the pieces floated into the air, only to sink down in the sand.

The trio looked at it with wonder.

Not long after that, a tiger face jumped up out of the sand, causing the three men to jump backwards.

John's mouth was wide open, but the corners of his lips were curved in a satisfying smile.

"Finally... The Cave of Wonders," he whispered.

John regained his composure really quick, and grabbed the thief at the collar of his shirt.

"Bring me the lamp," John ordered, and the man nodded.

He turned around, and took big reassuring steps towards the cave. Timothy looked at his Master, then at the thief and then at his Master again.

"But Boss-" he started, but found that John would not reply.

The thief entered the cave, and just when he was a few steps down, the cave made of sand suddenly collapsed, covering the thief and swallowing him into the depths of the desert.

John cursed, but suddenly, a voice that sounded much louder than any voice the duo had ever heard spoke to them.

"_Only _one_ can enter the cave. Bring me the Diamond in the Rough_," the voice said, and the cave disappeared, as did the loud voice.

"I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! I told you so, Boss. We will never get the treasure, not in a life time, and certainly not mine," Timothy rambled, his already high-pitched voice higher than ever before, while fetching the two treasure that had reappeared on the surface of the desert, "I told you so, yet you always ignore me as if I'm some beggar on the street."

"Patience, Timothy, patience. I only have to find this... Diamond in the Rough."

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**A/N: Oe, so... What do you think? I know right, it's bad, it's a stupid idea, I should stop it immediately, right away.  
**

**And YES, I know I'm currently writing two other stories, but since I've already actually finished them, I only need to post them, I had to find something to do with my lonely hours at home. This was the result.  
**

**But DO tell me what you think of it, in a REVIEW, thank you!  
**


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and follows and all! I love you all! **

**I had a much shorter chapter than this, with only 2000 words, but decided to put two chapters together. That way, you can enjoy this story better :D.  
**

**I wanted to make a longer Author's Note, since I always have a very long one, but my inspiration is gone and I'm actually just really angry at the weather gods to decide that the Dutch summer looks like Autumn. I was walking with my dog, and I was just five minutes out of the house when it started to rain. But I mean seriously _rain_. I was drenched when I came home. I hate you, weather gods.  
**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Entirely nothing. Only the idea to make this version of Aladdin.**

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Patrick groaned as he ran through the streets of Sacrabah.

Since when was it illegal to steal bread for your most beloved – and certainly your only – sister? She was hungry, and it was difficult these days to earn just a bit of money to buy food the legal way.

Okay, he knew it was illegal, but did he have another choice?

"You will lose your precious hands today, Street Rat," a guard hissed.

"It's just a bread!" Patrick exclaimed behind him, but sure the guards wouldn't give up that easily.

He slowed his pace when he ran past a familiar building, and hid behind the ladies that were standing there, making small-talk like always.

"Already in trouble, Patrick? It's merely morning," one of the women said, and the other's laughed.

"Well, you see, dear Carmelia, someone is only in trouble if one's caught. And seeing I'm still here in your pretty presence, I assume I'm not caught," Patrick explained. The woman chuckled.

Then, a strong hand grabbed him at his hair and turned him around. Patrick looked straight into the eyes of one of the guards.

"See, now I'm in trouble," Patrick said. He pinched the bridge of the poor man's nose, and he released Patrick immediately. Patrick picked up his bread and continued his way.

When he was running for what felt like hours, he reached his hide-out. He looked behind him, but found no guard chased him anymore. He smiled.

"What did you do now, Patrick?" Grace asked as she saw her older brother entering their 'summer house'.

He looked at her, an innocent expression on his face, and she gasped.  
"Not again! Patrick! I thought I told you that you couldn't steal bread anymore! You're surely going to get us killed one day!" she exclaimed, as she approached him, "why haven't you learned from your past?"

Patrick sighed, and broke the bread in two.

He had a wife and child once, and a job. Not a well-paid job, but it was just enough to feed his family. He loved them very dearly, as he did with his only sister.

Until one day, the Grand Vizier of Sacrabah, John, thought he had the right to play for God and kill his wife and child. In the desert, of course. The poor woman and child thought they could go out for a stroll. Patrick had told them many times that the desert was off-limits for them, for they could so easily get lost in it, and they would find no way back to their house, despite the desert being only a collection with many grains of sand. Patrick still didn't understand why the man had did that: both Angela and Charlotte hadn't done any harm to him. Perhaps they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

John had talked his way into the Sultan's palace, though. John had, in spite of his gruesome past, charms that no woman – or man, for that matter – could resist. Nobody knew of the murders, except for Patrick and Grace.

Patrick had suffered a major break-down following their deaths, and no one in town wanted to keep him employed anymore, and he had to steal to keep them fed.

"I did learn from it, Grace dear. I found no other way to give you the advised amount of food and water, and you know that too. If I could work, I would. But I can't, so I shan't," he said simply.  
Grace rolled her eyes. Deaths or not, Patrick was still the man that wanted to make everybody laugh.

"Just promise me that you'll be careful. The guards are the Sultan's men, if he finds out about you stealing things on a daily basis, you could genuinely get us killed – or at least me."

Patrick cringed at the thought. He sat down beside Grace, leaning his head against the cool surface of the wall. He grabbed her hand.  
"I'll protect you, Grace," he said, and she smiled faintly.

"I sure hope so," she said.

They ate the bread in silence, until they suddenly heard the distinctive sound of music that always played when a royal appeared at the palace.

Patrick got up immediately, and Grace sighed.  
"It's probably nothing, Patrick, just-" she started, but Patrick didn't stop. She sighed again, and joined him at his side.

When Patrick made his way through the crowd that had formed in the streets, he saw a man, decorated with jewels and other shiny things, sitting on his horse, an arrogant expression on his face.

"That must be Prince Walter. I heard about him," Grace whispered from behind Patrick. She got a hold of Patrick's shirt, and painfully grasped it to prevent herself from losing him, "he is here to ask for Princess Teresa's hand."

A bystander huffed.

"That's the third this month. Poor Princess," he said, and Grace nodded.

The prince looked through the crowd, undoubtedly to see how many people were poorer and dirtier than him, when he caught Grace's gaze.

He smiled at her, and Patrick could feel the shudders running over Grace's back as if it were his own. Patrick moved out of the crowd, and approached the prince.

"Don't look at my sister like that, you arrogant little man!" Patrick exclaimed, and the prince's gaze shot towards him. His eyes shot fire.

"How dare you talk to me like that!" Prince Walter exclaimed, grabbed his horsewhip and moved it to hurt Patrick, but the latter was too quick for the prince, grabbing the whip and throwing it on the ground.

The prince's eyes looked like the hell now. He straightened his back though, clearly realizing that getting into a tussle with a poor person would not be good for his name.

"Move out of my way, Street Rat," the prince exclaimed, passing by Patrick and pushing him onto the pavement with his foot. Patrick fell backwards, into the mud.

"The princess will never like you!" Patrick exclaimed after the prince, but the prince only huffed.  
"And I should be offended by a Street Rat like you? You were born a Street Rat, you will always be a Street Rat, and only your ugly sister and your dirty little fleas will mourn your death," the prince said, and the gate closed behind him.

The crowd continued what they were doing before Prince Walter had made an appearance. Grace approached him.

"You're lucky I love you so much, or otherwise I would have walked away just like everybody else," Grace said, reaching out her hand so Patrick could grab it and get up to his feet again. He groaned, his reputation obviously cranked by that arrogant prince, but Grace hit his arm.

"Stop it, Patrick. You can't behave to nobles like that. There is a reason that they are nobles and you're not," she said, and Patrick sighed.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, and she smiled faintly, in satisfaction at yet another win over Patrick.

"Let's go home."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

It was dark when the two arrived at their actual 'home', instead of just the hide-out.

"I don't understand why he would say something like that. One moment, he flirts with you, and the next moment he says you're ugly. You're not ugly," Patrick said.

Grace sighed.

"Just let it slide, Patrick. I'm used to it," she said. And that made Patrick angry, only not at his sister. Why would anybody say that Grace was ugly? If she hadn't been his beloved sister, he would've fell in love with her, definitely. Not only did she look pretty, with her abnormal beautiful red hair, she had a great personality too. Where he stole bread, cheated and lied, she helped little children reach the tastiest tomatoes at the local market that were put high above to avoid poor street children grabbing them and always put other's safety above her own, especially his.

He hoped he would meet a woman one day that was just as great as Grace was, only in her own way.

Patrick got up, and pushed the blanket away they had hung on the improvised curtain rack. The palace looked greater than ever, the gold of the roofs shining away into Patrick's eyes.

He sat down on the rim, and sighed.

"Someday, Grace, things are gonna change. We'll be rich, live in the palace, and we wouldn't have any problems at all," he said. Grace sighed.

"I know, Patrick," she said. She laid down on her bed – which was only a mattress and blanket Patrick had 'found' – and pulled the blanket up to her chin. He walked over to her, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  
"I love you, Grace," he whispered, and she drifted into a nameless slumber.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

A few hours earlier, in the royal palace, Prince Walter was angry. No, furious was a better word.

He angrily rushed his way through the royal garden, and slammed open the door to the palace.

"I have _never_ been _so_ insulted in my entire _life_," the prince exclaimed. Sultan Minelli shot up from one of the chairs in the hall.

"Don't leave, Prince Walter-"

"Good luck finding a husband for _her_, Sultan Minelli, I will most certainly not be the one!" Prince Walter exclaimed, and left the palace.

Minelli groaned, already angry. That girl was the worst daughter you could ever imagine!

"Teresa!" he exclaimed, as he stumped into the garden. His anger immediately left him when he saw Teresa sitting at the fountain, her tiger Rajah behind her. Her beautiful dark hair was creatively made into a long braid that went half-way down her back, and he could see she was sad, and maybe just a bit angry. But then again, she mostly was, just like her mother. And she was driving him absolutely crazy, for she was still alone and all the applicants for the job of her husband were either lunatics or completely selfish, and she kept sending them away.

As he almost arrived at her, Rajah growled at him.

"Down, Rajah!" the Sultan exclaimed, "for Christ's sake, don't scare me like that!"

The tiger laid down, and Teresa turned around.

"Teresa, that was the third this month. I can't have you stay alone for the rest of your life. The law says that you must be married to a prince-"

"I know Father!" Teresa exclaimed. She jumped up, facing him with her back, "the law is wrong. I don't want to forced to do this. I may be naïve, but when I marry, I want to marry because I love that person, not because you or the law says so."

"I don't have eternal life, Teresa. I can't be Sultan forever."

"Just... Father, please try to understand me. I have never done anything fun in my life, and I've most certainly never had any friends. And you won't let me outside the palace walls."

"Because I want to protect you, Teresa! The world outside the palace walls is cruel, and dangerous. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Prince Walter could provide you of safety, enough food, and lots of love."

"I am not marrying that overdressed, self-absorbed Prince Walter. It is not happening."

The Sultan groaned, but he knew the girl had won.

He stamped back into the palace.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"I'm going to bed now, Father, I'm tired," Teresa said to the Sultan. The man nodded, waving with his hand for her to come to him. She did, and placed a small kiss on his cheek.  
"I love you, Father," Teresa whispered, and Sultan Minelli smiled.

"I love you too. Now go," he said, and she walked out of the comfortably warmed room – though it was warm enough outside. Teresa had always loved that room, it wasn't especially big, compared to the rest of the palace.

Despite what she had told her father, she didn't go to her room. Instead, she grabbed her plain dark green cloak, and wrapped it around her, putting her long braid in the hood.

She walked into the courtly garden. She had spent days, weeks, even months with looking at the big wall surrounding her home, trying to make a plan of escaping. There weren't that many trees, and if they were there, they were either too short or too far away from the wall.

Teresa had found one tree though that looked strong enough. If she would stand on one of the twigs, and jumped just far enough, she could grab the wall and pull herself up – hey, she was a princess, but that didn't mean that she only walked around the castle being pretty. She worked out a lot.

She did just that, making sure not to tear the fabric of her dress. It was really an expensive one.

When she arrived at the top of the wall, she shot a quick look behind her. This was the garden where she'd spend most of her life. She knew she would come back soon, for her father was too protective over her and would most likely order all his guards to go and look for her.

Only: she had never been outside the palace walls before. She took a few moments to catch her breath again, and she looked over the city, and a strange tingling formed in her stomach. She ached for this city, she longed to be there.

She turned around, grabbed the palace side of the wall and slid down to the floor. Off to the life her father kept denying her.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"You know what we practiced, right?" Patrick asked as they began to hear the distinctive sound of the market from afar.  
Grace groaned, but nodded.

"I'm afraid so," she said, and he smiled.

"Great. Let's start!" Patrick said, and pushed Grace in front of him. She pulled her dress down a bit, just a little bit, yet enough to reveal more of her bosom than she actually wanted, and immediately went to the watermelon booth. The man was smiling at people that walked by, though he eyed the children suspiciously. His eyes caught Grace's, and his smile grew impossibly wider. Grace had always been a beauty, and she was irresistible.

She smiled at the man, and looked down at the man's watermelons.

"These watermelons look delicious!" Grace cheered happily, and the man shrugged. He looked around his booth and grabbed the most fresh and tasty one.  
"You can have this one for free, my pretty lady," the man said, and Grace chuckled.

"Really? Thank you," she said, and bowed over the watermelons to pat his cheeks, which pressed her breasts against the watermelons, flattening them, "thank you so much, you charming man."

Behind the drooling man, Grace saw Patrick pick up a few watermelons, placing it in his strong arms.

The man smiled at her, though he was having a hard time concentrating.

"You're very welcome, Miss."

"Seeing as you gave this watermelon for free, I take it you don't mind my brother here took some as well?" Grace asked, and when the man turned around, Patrick had disappeared, only to stand next to Grace when the man turned around again.  
"Thank you very much!" Patrick exclaimed, and the two ran away.

Patrick climbed on top of the roof, placed the watermelons on the surface and reaching out his arm to help Grace sit on the building too.

This was their usual spot, they would sit there most of the times when the market was in town. Nobody knew about this place.

"I'm not going to do that again, Patrick, it gives me creeps," Grace said, as she pulled her dress back up. Patrick smashed a knife into the watermelon to split it, and gave one half to Grace.

"Don't worry, Gracie, we will be rich soon," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said, and started eating.

Patrick sighed, contently. Another trick had worked, and they could eat again. That was a load lifted off his mind. It was all her lived for these days: to see that Grace was taken care of, provided for.

He looked over the market. It hurt to see so many little children that were probably almost all orphans. They had to steal to get food, to live. Just like him.

Yet something in between the crowd caught his eye: a young girl, from around his age, a cloak wrapped around her.

He immediately knew that this girl didn't belong here. Her whole attitude towards the people on the market was different, wasn't like any other person he knew.

Grace pinched his arm.  
"What are you looking at?" she asked. He didn't get his eyes off the girl.

"Nothing," he murmured. Grace scooped at bit, to look at where Patrick was looking. She smiled faintly when she saw a girl walking on the market. She could clearly see the girl's clear green eyes, even from this height and distance. She hadn't been there when Patrick had fell in love with Angela, his deceased wife, but Grace had the feeling that this was how it looked like for Patrick.

She waved her hand in front of his face.  
"Hello? Earth to Patrick?" she said, only she got no reaction. She just sighed, and stared at her brother, madly in love already before he'd even met the girl. Which was strange, even for her brother, since he had told her that he wouldn't fall in love again, not after what happened to Angela and Charlotte, his daughter.

Patrick saw the girl approaching a little child that was reaching for an apple.

"Oh, you must be hungry. Here you go," he heard her saying, and saw she gave the little one the apple it craved for. That moment, the owner of the booth decided to mix in the beautiful thing.

"You'd better be able to pay for," the owner said, and grabbed her arm. She had a shocked expression on her face, and Patrick felt his heart breaking.

"No one steals from my cart!" the man exclaimed, and grabbed his knife. He pushed her arm on the wood with a hard thud, causing the girl to let out a small shriek. She tried to protest, pulling back her arm, but she wasn't strong enough.

Patrick jumped from the roof, not before Grace tried to pull him back though.

"Ah, thank you, kind sir! I have been searching for her anywhere, but I couldn't find her!" Patrick exclaimed, grabbing the girl's hand and pulling her away from the man.

"What are you doing?" the girl whispered. Patrick shushed her.

"Play along," he whispered back.

"You, eh... know this thief?" the owner asked. Patrick looked at the girl reassuringly, before turning back to the man.

"Unfortunately, yes. She's my sister, you see. Sad case," he said, moving closer to the man so she couldn't hear him, "she's a bit crazy. She thinks Grace here is her twin sister."

Grace had joined the argument, and had immediately decided to play along, as long as Patrick kept it discreet, because she knew that he could be a little over the top sometimes. She looked at the girl, and saw gratitude, but also a faint flicker of confusion in her eyes.

The girl played along too.  
"Look at her!" she exclaimed, grabbing hold of Grace's red hair and her own hair, and comparing it.

"It's the same color!" she exclaimed, and the owner pulled a face.

"Yes, tragic, isn't it? But it isn't contagious. We try what we can to make life easy for her. As long as she doesn't run off, that's an easy task," he said, looking at the girl again, "and don't you dare run away again, young lady!"

The girl nodded, and the owner shrugged.  
"Okay, it's fine then. Good luck with her," he said, and Patrick nodded.  
"Thank you very much," he said, and grabbed the girl's hands.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"All due respect, your rottenness, can't we ask which book we want?" Timothy asked, as the evil duo walked through the courtly library. John had wanted to find out who that Diamond in the Rough was, and since none of them both knew it, he had to search for background stories. Maybe there were stories about one certain Diamond in the Rough, a tale perhaps.

John sighed.  
"No, we can't. Nobody can know what I'm planning on doing, you imbecile. Now, what do we have here?" John murmured as he entered a section of the library that was more dusty than the rest.

"Diamond, Diamond, Diamond," he murmured as he traced the book bindings with his index finger, "yes! Diamond in the Rough."

He grabbed the book, and opened the book, immediately starting reading.  
"Well, that was easy," Timothy whispered.  
"Stop it," John said, raising his finger to indicate that the older man had to shut his mouth.

John sat down, and Timothy sat down beside John.

Timothy, undoubtedly and annoyingly bored, tried to read with John.

"What does it say?"

"What part of 'stop it' don't you understand?" John hissed, and Timothy raised his hands in defense.

"I'm sorry, o mighty evil one," Timothy whispered, and let John read again.

"Here... The tale tells the Diamond in the Rough is the chosen one. He'll have blonde hair, green eyes and will destroy the evil in the world," John read. He closed the book.

"Now, Timothy, do we know somebody with blonde hair and green eyes?" John asked. Timothy stared at John, thinking about the question, before an evil grin spread on his face and he nodded.  
"Of course."

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**A/N: Oh, an evil plan! :D  
**

**Let me know what you think in a REVIEW, thank you!  
**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: This chapter turned out longer than I intended. I had wanted to make this one 4000 as well, just because the last chapter was 4000 words too, but I kept on writing and when I looked at the number of words I put in it, I got a heart attack. 5990 words. Holy macaroni. **

**Anyways: Thanks for the reviews and the follows! It was less than I expected to get, but it was still highly appreciated and they made me so happy! So thank you!**

**I was so happy to write this chapter! It contains so many funny scenes, and I just love it so much :D. I was just laughing at my own story, but then again, this isn't entirely _my_ story since I used a lot of the script from Aladdin :D.**

**Disclaimer: *insert sad face here* No... No, my dream still has to come true, as I don't own either The Mentalist or Aladdin. But I'm pretty sure that if I had an iPhone, there would be an app where I _could_ in fact own them. Sadly, I don't own an iPhone either...**

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Patrick reached out his hand, and pulled the girl onto the roof. He hold on to her hand, and he heard a faint groan from Grace, who tried to pull herself up onto the roof herself. They walked into Patrick and Grace's home.

"So... this was your first time in the market place, wasn't it?" The girl smiled faintly.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Well, you do... stand out."

"And what are you implying with that?" she asked, incredulously, her hands moving to her hips. Patrick raised his arms.

"Nothing! You just don't seem to realize how dangerous the streets of Sacrabah can be. You're naïve, but all good people are."

She sighed. Grace, in the meantime, had succeeded in getting on the roof, and was panting from her exertion. Grace shot Patrick a look, but he just smiled at her.

"You and Grace live here?" the girl asked. Patrick nodded.

"It's not that much. But it does for shelter. Yet the view is just," he said, letting go of her hand and walking over to the improvised window, pulling away the improvised curtain, "breath-taking. Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

The girl just faintly nodded. "It's wonderful."

Patrick stared at the palace.

"I wonder how it would be like to live there. People do actually care about you."

"But they will tell you what to wear, think and feel," the girl protested.

"At least you'll be save, and taken care of. We have to steal to get food and new clothes."

"Sure. Yet you won't be able to make your own choices, they do it for you."

"Sometimes we feel so-"

"You're just so-"

"Trapped," both said in unison, and turned to look at each other. When their eyes met, the girl blushed slightly, and looked away.

Grace walked up behind Patrick, poking his side teasingly.

"I'll be outside," she whispered in his ear, and he nodded.

Grace smiled at the girl, before leaving the two alone.

"So, where're you from?" Patrick asked the girl.

"Does that matter? I ran away, and I am never going back."

"Really? Well that surprises me. Why would someone like you run away? What is so terrible?" he asked. He sat down beside the girl. She sighed, and shrugged.

"My father... I love him very dearly, only he is forcing me to marry."

Patrick's face cringed. He had heard about that. Some poorer families needed to get their children to marry other children from other families, in order to get more money and to stay alive. Patrick had never thought that was true, for he had only heard it in stories other people had told him.

When he married Angela, it was because of love. Both families were rich enough – not too rich, though – but they had money to buy food and other things you needed to stay alive.

"That's awful...," Patrick whispered. The girl nodded, and shrugged.

"Is that your sister?" she asked, looking at Grace who was watching the stars. Patrick nodded.

"Is she jealous of me?" she asked, and Patrick startled.

"Jealous? Grace?" he asked, incredulously, and then shook his head frantically.

"No, she's not. She just worries about me. We only have each other, and since we don't know you, she's afraid something will happen to me," Patrick explained. The girl sighed.

"Well, she needn't be jealous. But it's really," she said, looking him in the eyes, and butterflies started to dance in Patrick's stomach, "sweet, that she's," the girl moved closer, so close their lips almost touched, "so worried about you."

Patrick slowly raised his hand and cupped her face, moving closer to link their lips, when a loud shriek caused them to jump away from each other.

"Patrick!" Grace exclaimed, but was cut off by a guard grabbing her hand and turning her around.

"They've found me!" Patrick and the girl both exclaimed in unison, and then looked at each other, "they're after you?"

The girl's breath accelerated, as she realized what was happening.

"My father must have realized I'm gone! And now he sent his men to find me and take me back and-"

"Do you trust me?" Patrick suddenly asked, reaching out his hand. The girl turned around, and frowned.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked again, and she nodded, slowly. Patrick quickly grabbed her hand, and pulled her with him off the rim, into nowhere. They landed into a big pile of straw, and he got up immediately, helping her up.

All the trouble was for nothing, though, because when Patrick wanted to run out of the barn, he bumped into the head guard.

"What a pleasure to see you, Street Rat," the guard Patrick had seen many times before said, his men following him.

"You know why I'm here. You still have to pay for that bread you stole yesterday morning."

The guards ran over to Patrick and grabbed his arms.

"Let go of him," said the girl, her tone calm. Patrick tried to look into her eyes, tried to tell her that she needed to keep quiet, but she looked at the guards, clearly angry.

"A street _mouse_!" the guard exclaimed, and the guards laughed. She then took her cloak off, revealing her complete face and Patrick felt his heart melt. She was so beautiful.

"Unhand him, by order of the princess."

All men were frowned upon this sudden revelation.

"Princess Teresa?" the head guard asked, incredulously, and the girl nodded.

"What are you doing here, with this street rat?"

"That is none of your business. Instead, I demand you do as I say. Release this man," she ordered. The guard sighed.

"I wish I could, Your Highness, but you should speak to John. He gives me and my men orders," the guard explained, and Patrick's blood started to boil. John.

"You'll have to take it up with him."

Teresa's face went angry and sour.

"Oh, I will."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"John!" Teresa exclaimed as she ran into the main hall of the palace. John and his servant Timothy, who were whispering with each other, startled, and turned around.

"Ah, Princess Teresa. How can I help you on this fine day?" John asked. Shudders ran over Teresa's spine. John had always given her shivers; something wasn't right with his man, but she just couldn't figure out what.

"The guards just took a man with them. They told me that you gave them orders for it."

"That's right. Your father wants me to keep the streets of Sacrabah save. Your Highness, trust me, the guards had all reason to arrest him. He is a criminal."

"What was the crime?" Teresa asked. John sighed dramatically, and walked past her, yet Teresa grabbed his arm and turned him around again, "what were the charges, John?"

"Why, don't be so stupid, Your Highness. Kidnapping the princess of course." Teresa's eyes widened.  
"He didn't kidnap me. I went with him on my own volition," she explained.

John cringed.

"Oh dear! Oh, why frightfully upsetting. Had I but known," John said, and walked away, a shocked expression on his face.

"What do you mean?" Teresa asked, pulling him around again like she had done moments before.

"I'm afraid the poor man's sentence has already been carried out," John said. Teresa swallowed.  
"What... sentence?" she asked. John looked at her, seeming to think about if he should tell her.

"Death," he finally said, and Teresa gasped, "by beheading."

Teresa began frantically shaking her head.

"No," she whispered.  
"I'm greatly sorry, princess," John lied, and walked away.

Teresa touched her cheek, where the man had touched her. They had almost kissed... She didn't even know the man for long, yet she had the feeling this man was the one she had been waiting for, the man she had rejected rich princes for.

But now, he was dead. It was all her fault. And she wouldn't get a chance at true love. Wasn't even allowed to look at it.

- A is for Aladdin -

Patrick tried to move his hands, tried to take away the painful position of his arms.

They had chained his arms to the wall, but they hadn't asked if he was sitting comfortably or not. His muscles felt sour already. The dungeons were dirty, even for him.

"She was the princess," Patrick muttered under his breath, mostly to himself since there was no other prisoner, "the princess... I can't believe it. I must have sounded exceedingly stupid."

"Patrick," he heard, softly, from above him. When he looked up, he saw Grace. He smiled.

"Here to save me, Gracie? Well, that's really kind of you-"

Grace lifted her hand to stop him.

"Let me first get some things straight. I like that you're so in love with her already, but that does not give you the right to ignore _me_. But above all: she is the princess. You don't really think you make a chance, do you?" Grace asked. Patrick sighed, and shrugged.

"Stop with thinking it then," she said, and jumped off the rim to land beside him.

"All I know is that she was in danger, and I helped her."

"In danger, right," Grace said. She made him turn slightly so she could work on the handcuffs.

"Don't worry about me, Gracie. I won't ever see her again, never. Besides, I'm just a street rat, she probably doesn't even remember me anymore. She deserves somebody who can give her everything, and I'm not that person. I can't give her anything."

The distinctive sound of handcuffs being opened followed, and Patrick sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Grace," he said, and she shrugged.

"Everything to keep my foolish brother alive," Grace said, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

"You're only a fool if you give up, young man," someone at the other side of the dungeon said, and both Patrick and Grace turned around, her letting out a small shriek.

Patrick narrowed his eyes into the direction where the voice came from, and got up. When he did, he saw an old man sitting against the wall opposite of where Patrick had sat. Patrick frowned. He thought he'd seen the man before, but he wasn't entirely sure.

"Who are you, if I may ask?" Patrick asked. The stranger smiled faintly, and nodded.  
"I'm just one lowly prisoner, like yourself. I can't do much on my own anymore, I'm afraid, but with you and this beautiful young lady, perhaps then we're stronger," the old man explained. Patrick's frown grew impossibly bigger.

"Stronger for what?"

"There is a cave. The Cave of Wonders. There are enough treasures in it that you can impress your princess, I'd bet."

"That's very great, but why would you tell me all this?" The man smiled, as he realized Patrick was smarter than he thought.

"Me, I'm just an old man. My legs are weak, my back is on the edge of collapsing. I can't go there myself. I need a strong young man like you to go for me," the man explained. Patrick turned to look at Grace, who was just inches behind him. They both weren't entirely sure if they needed to give in or not.

"There's just only one problem, Sir. I can't see a way of escaping this dungeon," Patrick said. The smile appeared again on the man's face.

He turned around, and pushed against a few bricks with his cane, and a part of the wall disappeared. The two siblings looked at it in wonder. That was some great wizardry.

"Can Grace come too?" Patrick asked, and the man nodded.

"Of course she can. Seeing as you are not afraid of anything, she won't be either," the man said. Patrick grabbed Grace's hand.

The man reached out his hand. "We have a deal then?"

- A is for Aladdin -

"Remember. Fetch me the lamp first. Then you can get what you deserve," the old man said, and Patrick nodded.

"Who disturbs my slumber?" the cave, shaped like a tiger, asked as it rose from the sand. Patrick stepped back a bit.

"It is I, Patrick, and my sister, Grace."

"Proceed, Patrick. Touch nothing but the lamp," the cave said, and Patrick nodded.

"Got it." Patrick grabbed Grace's hand, and approached the cave. He entered it, Grace hesitating a bit before following him.

When they were well down the long stairs, Patrick laughed in clear surprise.

"Would anybody believe this? A magic cave in the desert that talks? Really?"

"Hush, Patrick. You want the princess? This is the only way to get her: though I highly doubt that she's ever going to like you, seeing as you're reckless and a daredevil."

Patrick sighed. He knew Grace was right. If he wanted the princess to like him, he needed to do this.

When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Grace immediately gasped. The big high room they had arrived in was filled with more gold than they could ever imagine. Gold was piled up in what looked like mountains, there was nothing that wasn't gold, except for a few rare diamond rings.

"Would you look at this, Patrick?" Grace gasped, as she stood before a big golden chest, with diamond rings and necklaces in it. She moved to pick up one, when Patrick stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

"We can't touch anything, remember?" Grace pouted. Patrick grabbed her hand, and pulled her with him.

This was genuinely the most beautiful place they had ever seen.

Grace got a strange feeling though, like they were being followed or something. She turned around, but saw nothing. She swallowed, and when she looked in Patrick's direction, she saw he was fascinated by all the gold. She rolled her eyes, and looked at all the gold too. But the strange feeling was still present in her stomach, and she turned around again. Just in time to see the pretty carpet she had spotted earlier fall down to the floor. She frowned, and let Patrick's hand go.

She approached the carpet, but when it didn't move, she shrugged and turned around. Yet she turned around another time, just to make sure, and then saw the carpet flying in the air.

"Patrick!" she exclaimed. Patrick turned around.

"Hmm?"

"Patrick, that's a... that's a-"

"That's a what, Gracie?" he asked, "cat got your tongue?" he teased, when Grace didn't reply.

She pointed at the carpet, now rolled up and leaning against a pile of the treasure.

"Ah. That, my dear, is carpet," Patrick said, approaching the rug, waving for Grace to follow him, "you see, if you spread it on the floor, you can sit on it."

Patrick laughed at Grace, yet he didn't see the carpet raising behind him. Grace pointed at it, and Patrick rolled his eyes.  
"What did I tell you, Grace? It's just a-" Patrick started, yet was cut off when he turned around and saw the curtain in the air. When it saw Patrick, it flew away, and Patrick startled.

"What the... a magic carpet! Grace!" he exclaimed, filled with joy. However, the carpet didn't seem to be that happy to see Patrick and Grace, since it had flown with all its might to get away from the two.

"C'mon. We won't hurt you," Patrick said, and the carpet slowly appeared. If Patrick wasn't a sane person, he would swear it was blushing.

It slowly flew towards them, and suddenly straightened its back and grabbed Grace's hand, placing a strange kiss on her hand.

Grace chuckled, but Patrick just found it weird. The carpet didn't even have a face.

The carpet noticed, and hung his 'head'. He walked away, sadly, and Grace shot him a look.

"You hurt him," she hissed, and followed the cloth. Patrick rolled his eyes.

"Women," he muttered.

"Maybe you can help us?" Grace asked, and the carpet turned around, hesitantly, "we're looking for a lamp," she said, and the carpet suddenly looked excited, flying around her and engaging her in a tight hug.  
"Okay, so maybe you _can_ help us," Grace laughed, and the carpet flew away, out of the big hall into a long, deep cave. It was humid here, and it smelled not exceedingly nice.

"I really thought you were the sanest of us, but now, you're talking to a carpet."

"Just because you don't believe in it, Patrick, doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

"I do believe in it-"

"No, you don't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not. Everything I say is true most of the time," Patrick said, and Grace rolled her eyes.

They finally reached the end of the cave, and came into a big hall, feet high. A gigantic pillar stood in the middle of it, surrounded with water. Little, unevenly placed stones formed a weak bridge towards the pillar. A faint beam of light shined at the top of the pillar, and gold reflected into Patrick and Grace's eyes.

"That's the lamp," he stated. Grace rolled her eyes faintly.

"Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious," she said, and he shrugged.

"I'm going there, you stay here," he said, while he turned around and lowered himself onto the first stone.

"Wait, you can't just go there! What if this place is booby-trapped or something?"

"Really? This is the only treasure we are allowed to touch, why would it be booby-trapped?"

Grace sighed, and Patrick continued his way to the pillar. He carefully jumped from one stone to another. Grace crossed her arms, and looked around.

A beautiful golden monkey stared at her, and she felt immediately drawn to the monkey. It was holding the most precious, beautiful and stupendous ruby she had ever seen in her entire life. If she got this ruby, she and Patrick would infinitely be rich. She could already picture what life they could be living. She saw it all in that big ruby, and she approached it.

Patrick climbed up the stairs, focusing on getting there in one piece. He was clumsy sometimes, and he could easily fall down these steps. When he arrived at the top of the stairs, he smiled. The lamp was beautiful, its handle decorated with clear white diamonds, and Patrick could see from where he was standing that something was encrusted in the bottom. He walked over to it, and grabbed it, cautiously, for he expected the big pillar to collapse when he grabbed the lamp. But it didn't.

He laughed, and turned to look Grace, when he saw she touched a treasure. He stopped dead in his tracks, yet he was still capable of screaming her name. She startled, and turned around, dropping the ruby. From that moment, everything happened in a blur.

"Infidels!" the loud voice of the cave sounded, "you have touched the forbidden treasure. Now you will never again see the light of day!"

From beneath him, he heard a loud rumbling, and he assumed the pillar was collapsing. He looked down and his suspicions were confirmed, and suddenly, the floor underneath him fell apart, and he fell the complete hundred feet, on his way to the water that had now turned into hot boiling lava. Patrick knew that moment he was going to die.

Yet when he was about to fall into the water and rocks, the magic carpet appeared, and caught Patrick. Patrick let out a breath of relief, though he hadn't noticed he was actually holding his breath.

"Grace!" he exclaimed, and the carpet flew in top speed to Grace.

The roof had already started to collapse, and rocks were falling down, making it dangerous to be there. Patrick wasn't gentle when he pulled Grace onto the carpet. She immediately flung her arms around his waist. All this movement made it all the more difficult to hold on to the lamp he had fetched before he had fallen.

"What are you waiting for? Get us out of here!" Patrick exclaimed, as a rock fell to the floor not five feet away from them. The carpet raced out of the hall, into the long cave, where stalactites were falling onto the floor. They had to make strong zigzag movements to avoid them. Grace had in the meantime crept onto the carpet, and had her eyes closed the entire time. Patrick leaned over her to shield for falling rocks.

When they got to the entrance, the gold in the first big hall were the last thing their attention got to. The carpet flew faster, Patrick wasn't even sure something could go as fast as the carpet was going now.

As they arrived at the entrance, the old man was standing there, awaiting Patrick and the lamp. That moment, a big boulder fell from the ceiling, knocking down the carpet, parting the carpet from Patrick and Grace, causing the two to frantically grab into the air to prevent them from falling down, since the big stairs they had descended earlier seemed to have vanished into thin air. Patrick could grab the only left step, and Grace could only grab his waist. Patrick groaned, since now not only his own weight hung from his arms, but also Grace's.

Patrick looked down, into Grace's with fear filled eyes, then at the carpet that was covered with a big boulder, then up, and saw the old man was within reach.

"Help me out!" Patrick exclaimed over the loud rumbling of the cave collapsing, but the man shook his head.  
"Throw me the lamp!" the man exclaimed. Patrick tried to lift one hand from the rock wall to get the lamp, but found he couldn't by all the weight his hands were supporting.

"I can't hold on! Give me your hand!" Patrick exclaimed, and again, the man shook his head.  
"The lamp!" Patrick looked down at Grace, and though she was probably scared to death, she nodded. She reached for his shirt, grabbing the lamp, and just when she was about to throw it towards the old man, the big tiger head closed, parting the duo from the world, and the shock that came with it made Patrick lose his grip on the wall. The sudden fall elicited a loud shriek from Grace.

Where Grace fell straight down to the floor, Patrick hit the rock walls in his fall.

The carpet had just in time broke free from the boulder, and raced up to catch both, first Patrick because he was closer, then Grace.

The carpet gently placed them on the floor.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Outside the cave, in the big open desert, the old man was cursing. He had it. Well, almost, but he was _so close_.

The cave roared one more time, before disappearing in the sand.

He pulled off his disguise, still cursing madly.

Now what?

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Teresa fell onto her bed, and buried her face into her pillow. This was not how she had imagined going outside the palace would be like. She thought she could just take a quick look at how the people lived, at what she was missing while she was stuck inside the palace.

Instead, she had to fall in love with the first man she met. And he was still dead because of her.

"Teresa?" her father asked, and she shot up, wiping at her eyes to remove any tears that may be left.

"John... John has done something... horrible," she said, her voice sounding much weaker than she intended it to be. Her father sighed, but rushed to her, taking her in his arms. He could undoubtedly see and hear that she had cried, and she cursed herself internally for looking so weak towards her father.

She had never cried in years, but that was mostly because she did not have any reasons at all to cry. She experienced close to nothing: the only thrill she'd had in the past year was when one of her new dresses was delivered later than it should have.

Sultan Minelli tenderly stroked his hand up and down her spine, kissing the top of her head.

"There there," he whispered in her ear, "I'm sure it can be fixed. John is not the man to kill somebody or something."  
The Sultan laughed about his own joke, but when Teresa looked up, he stopped laughing, getting serious almost immediately.

"Tell me everything."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

When Grace finally had the courage to open her eyes, she immediately noticed she was laying on of her brother. She jumped up when she saw he had his eyes closed.  
"Patrick!" she exclaimed, and went from on top of him to beside him, and gently tapped his cheek to wake him up.

He stirred slightly, and the carpet rose, making Patrick sit up straight, and he awoke. Grace stroked his cheek gently, and he looked at her.

"You okay?" he asked, and she nodded. He let out a breath of relief, and smiled faintly.

He then got up, and looked to the ceiling, where the cave had undoubtedly closed, since there was not a single beam of light entering the cave.

"Oh, my head," Patrick groaned. He grabbed for his head, but when Grace got up too, a worried look on her face, he dropped his hand. He shook his head, to show that it was nothing.

"That two faced son-of-a-jackal!" he cursed, and when Grace shot him a look, he sighed, regaining his calms, "Whoever that man was, I'm sure he's long gone with the lamp."

Grace got a big smile on her face, and Patrick eyed her suspiciously.

"You mean this lamp?" she asked, as she reached behind her and grabbed the lamp. Patrick's eyes widened.  
"Oh god, Grace, I'm so proud that you're my sister," he said, and took the lamp from her.

Patrick looked at it, this time genuinely, and sighed.

"Looks like such a beat-up, worthless piece of junk," he concluded, and Grace sighed. "Wait a minute..."

Grace was behind him in seconds, looking at what Patrick had just discovered.

"Looks like there's something engraved in it," Grace said, and Patrick nodded. He tried to read it, but it wasn't comprehensible at all, and there was way too much dust on it. He rubbed the lamp in an attempt to make it better readable, yet when he tried to read it one more time, the lamp suddenly began shaking and glowing. Patrick and Grace both frowned, but they didn't have much time to think about what was happening, for a big beam of light shot out of the lamp. The duo squinted.

When the light was fading, they opened their eyes again. They could make out two figures – one tall and the other one small. The smoke that came with the light vanished too.

The two figures got faces now, and the taller one immediately ran around. The smaller one hesitantly followed.

"Aaaah," the taller one croaked, "Oy, ten-thousand years in that damn small lamp will give ya such a crimp in the neck!" He moved his shoulders, cocking his head to both sides to loosen up the muscles in his neck.

"Such a pleasure to be outta that thing," he exclaimed. The smaller one joined him at his side, his arms crossed.  
"Oh, hey!" the taller man exclaimed, as he saw Patrick and Grace, and shook their hands enthusiastically.

"I'm Wayne. This is Kimball," he said, pointing at the smaller man. The man in question just shrugged, clearly not interested in being there. "And what's your name?"

Patrick frowned.

"Patrick," he said, quite unsure, and Wayne smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Patrick!" he exclaimed, and then noticed Grace standing behind Patrick. She stepped away from Patrick – whom she was holding as if she were to die – and reached out her hand to Wayne.  
"I'm Grace," she said, and flashed the man her biggest smile. Wayne swallowed, a forced a polite smile on his face – obviously he had already fallen for her charms – and then looked back at Patrick, to change the subject.

"How do they call you, Patrick?" Wayne asked, as he snapped with his finger. Above Patrick's face, a neon sign with his name appeared.

"Pat?" Wayne asked, and the 'rick' in Patrick's name disappeared, "or just Rick?", and the same happened, only now the 'pat' disappeared.

"What about Patty?" Wayne offered, but then immediately shook his head, "no, that sounds like I'm calling a dog."

"Call him Patrick," Kimball deadpanned. Wayne sighed, and stepped aside to let Kimball join the group too.

"Don't mind him, he yet has to grow up," Kimball apologized, and Patrick and Grace smiled faintly.

"You're a lot smaller than our last master," Kimball said.

"Or you're smaller, Kimball," Wayne teased. Kimball just flashed the man his serious face, and Wayne coughed, losing his smile.

"Wait... We're your masters?" Grace asked, interrupting the little fight between the two.

"That's right! We're here to help you!"

"What are you?" Patrick murmured, one eyebrow raised. Wayne gasped, and moved to snap his fingers, but Kimball interrupted.

"We're the genies of the lamp."

"You're WHAT?" Patrick asked, incredulously.

"For your enjoyment wish fulfillment," Wayne said, cheerily.  
"Wish fulfillment?"

"Three wishes to be exact. And ix-nay on the wishing for more wishes," Wayne said.

"No substitutions, exchanges or refunds," Kimball added.

"We must be dreaming, Patrick," Grace whispered in his ear. Patrick nodded.

"We must be."

"Master, I don't think you quite realize what you've got here!" Wayne exclaimed, and Kimball rolled his eyes.  
"Not again," he murmured, and Wayne snapped his fingers, and suddenly, a song started playing, "and he starts singing again," Kimball again murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So why don't you just ruminate, whilst I illuminate the possibilities-"

"Don't, Wayne. Stop it, before it grows annoying," Kimball said, snapping his fingers too and made the song disappear, "for which you are already late."

"But-"

Another snap, and Wayne's lips were glued together, making it impossible for him to talk.

"What is it you do, exactly?" Patrick asked. Kimball forced a polite smile on his face, but when he saw the two siblings cringed at the sight, he removed it.

"You have three wishes, we can make them come true."

"Three wishes? And we can wish _anything_?" Grace asked.

Kimball shook his head.

"Almost anything. There are a few provisos."

"Such as?"

Kimball looked at Wayne, who was childishly sitting in a corner of the cave, his head in his hands, back facing the three. Kimball snapped his fingers, and Wayne's lips opened again.

"Rule number one," Kimball started, and Wayne flashed over to his side.

"We can't kill anybody," Wayne stated.  
"So don't ask," Kimball added.

"Rule number duos-"

"We can't make anyone fall in love with anyone else," Kimball interrupted. Wayne winked at Grace. "Sorry darling, without exceptions."

Grace desperately rolled her eyes. Patrick suppressed a chuckle.

"Rule number tres," Wayne started, and snapped his fingers. Kimball fell backwards, as if someone pierced his heart with a sword. Patrick and Grace gasped, but as Wayne snapped with his fingers again, Kimball 'rose from the dead', his arms in front of him as a mummy.

"We can't bring anyone back from the dead. It's not a pretty sight," Wayne said, and averted his gaze from Kimball. Wayne snapped his fingers again, and Kimball was like he was before.

"Other than that, you got it," Kimball said. Grace was obviously impressed, but Patrick had his doubts.

"Provisos, huh? You mean: as in limitations?" he asked, and the two genies nodded. Patrick cocked his head to the side, his 1000-watt smile plastered on his face, and looked at Grace.

"So much for the magic. Can't even bring people from the dead. I bet they can't even get us out of here," Patrick said. Grace was about to shake her head, when she saw that familiar look in Patrick's eyes. He was working on a plan. And she knew better than to doubt Patrick's plans.

"Seems like we'll have to find out a way ourselves, Patrick," Grace said sadly, playing along with him. They turned around, and were about to walk away, when they heard two pairs of fingers snapping, and the two genies stood in front of them.

"Excuse me?" Wayne asked, incredulously, as he stood before Patrick.

"Are you looking at me?" Kimball asked Grace.

"Did you rub our lamp?"

"Did you bring us out here?"

"And all of a sudden, you're walkin' out on us?"

"I don't think so," Kimball hissed, as his dead-panned expression left his face and was replaced by a clearly angry one.

"You're gettin' your wishes, so siddown!" Wayne snapped, and snapped his fingers. They were all suddenly on the magic carpet. Patrick and Grace didn't know how they did it, since at first sight, there was no space for four people. But apparently, it fit. Yet then again, they were genies, they owned magic and they could do anything – or at least, that's what they implied.

"In case of emergency, the exits are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, anywhere!" Wayne said, with a steward voice, pointing everywhere, "keep your hands and arms inside the carpet, please."

Kimball snapped with his fingers, and it was as if an electric spark ran through the magic carpet, making him move, and Wayne snapped his fingers too, making an opening in the ceiling, before they left the cave with the speed of light.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"John, this is an outrage!" the Sultan exclaimed towards the man in question, "If it weren't for all years of loyal service... From now on, you are to discuss sentencing of prisoners with me, before they are beheaded."

John bowed down, nodding his head.  
"Trust me, Your Highness, it will not happen again," he said, and the Sultan nodded. He turned towards his daughter, who still looked furious.

"Teresa, John, let us act as if nothing has happened, please?" the Sultan asked, and Teresa turned, and looked into John's eyes. The man just smiled faintly, and walked towards her, grabbing her hand.

"And I am exceedingly sorry, princess. My humblest apologies to you, Your Highness," John said, and were to kiss the princess' hand, when she pulled it back.  
"At least some good may come out of my forced marriage with a prince. I can get rid of _you_," she spat out. The Sultan smiled, and clapped with his hands.  
"That's settled then! Now, Teresa, let's come back on this suitor thing-" the Sultan started, but when he turned back to his daughter, she was gone.

The Sultan groaned. "Teresa!"

As the Sultan left, John also groaned. Timothy came out of the shadows he had been hiding in.

"If only I had gotten that lamp," John hissed. Timothy was clearly angry too.

"Who does she think she is?" Timothy exclaimed, "I can get rid of you," he imitated in a fake woman's voice. "Unbelievable! Can you believe that, John? To believe we have to kiss up that chump, and that chump of a daughter for the rest of our lives-"

"No, Timothy. Only before she gets a chump husband. Then she will have all right to send us out. Or kill us."

Timothy's eyes lit up.

"I have it! What if _you_, oh rottenness, were to become her chump husband!" Timothy exclaimed, and John looked at him in insult.

"Excuse me?"

"You'll marry the princess, alright? Then you'll become Sultan!" Timothy exclaimed.

"Oh! That could work! Marry the shrew! And then, I will become Sultan!" John said, testing the plan Timothy had just offered, "it has merit!"

"Yes, merit!" Timothy repeated, though he had no idea what that meant, "and then we can push papa-in-law and the awful little princess off a cliff!"  
John smiled an evil smile. He walked towards Timothy, and patted the man's shoulder.  
"Timothy, I love the way your creepy mind works."

* * *

**A/N: I have to admit: I love Rigsby and Cho in this story. I got the inspiration to make them like this from an interview Simon had the other day. He said that Owain and Tim (so Rigsby and Cho) are a lot like Tweedledee and Tweedledum from Alice in Wonderland. You know, that identical twin that always finished each other's lines and all. I thought that it would fit for this story :D.**

**And I do admit that I try an awful lot to have the scenes with Patrick and Grace as creative and not-Aladdin-like as possible, yet the scenes with John and the Sultan and all are just copied from the movie. I don't know, Minelli is just so strange in this story, and I couldn't just change the whole character of the Sultan (who is a child at heart) just because it isn't like Minelli. I don't know, it didn't feel right. So I kinda took a bit too many liberties in writing Minelli, that's why it's (a bit) OOC. But hey, don't you just love both the Sultan and Minelli? So it's not a problem, right? Still best friends?**

**Let me know what you think in a REVIEW, thank you very much! Until next chapter!**


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: LOVED the feedback on the last chapter!**

**I just visited a big party, like for the entire village I live in, and it was actually great (not the party itself, that was only about the alcohol). But now I have the feeling I'm deaf. There was such a beautiful firework, but I could just _feel_ it destroying my eardrums. Oh well. It isn't really necessary for reading and writing to be able to hear, right? (just for future reference, I'm not _actually_ deaf, but I like to exaggerate when I tell stories)**

**Okay, so back to this story! There are some things different in this chapter compared to the movie, but it's still very much the same, so my next message needs to be surrounded by confetti and fireworks and all, just so you know that I DON'T OWN EITHER THE MENTALIST OR ALADDIN.**

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"Thank you for choosing Magic Carpet for all your travel needs. Don't stand until the rug has come to a complete stop."

The four landed in a what could be called an oasis, though Patrick and Grace knew that it wasn't real.

Patrick jumped off the carpet, and reached out his hand to Grace to help her get off too.

"I'm not incompetent, Patrick," she said, and got off herself. Patrick shrugged, and walked over to the two genies who were already arguing again. The complete journey – which was quite long, maybe even longer since all they saw was sand – had been spent with bickering.

"Well, how about that, Mister doubting Mustafa," Wayne snapped, as he saw Patrick had approached them, and Patrick raised his hands in defense.  
"Impressive, I must say," he admitted, and Wayne got a big smile on his face, and looked at Kimball.

"Now, about our three wishes-"

"Excuse me?" Kimball interrupted. "I think I was hallucinating. I thought I heard you saying three wishes?"

"You're down with _one_, my friend," Wayne added. A smug smile appeared on Patrick's face, and Grace had to suppress a chuckle as she realized that her brother had just tricked two more people – well, creatures.

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm having to correct you on that, my _friends_. We never actually _wished_ to get out of that cave."

The genies' jaws dropped.

"Darn! I told you something wasn't right!" Wayne told Kimball, who just shrugged. "'Kay, you got us on that one, but we're no charity institution: no more free wishes, comprendo?"

Patrick smiled, and shrugged. "Fair deal."

"Three wishes, huh?" Grace asked, and the two creatures nodded. "They need to be good, Patrick."

Patrick had placed a finger on his chin as an act of thinking, and he nodded at what Grace said. Yet he didn't exactly reply, so she chose to take the lead in this one.

"What would you wish for?" Grace asked the genies, and they startled. They looked at each other, and then at the woman again.

"What? Is it that hard of a question?" The two shook their heads.  
"Why, by no means, pretty lady," Wayne said.  
"Nobody's asked us this before," Kimball answered.

"We shouldn't tell it, Kimball," Wayne said to Kimball, who reluctantly agreed. Grace frowned.  
"Why not? You can tell me," she said, and Wayne sighed.

"Freedom," they said in unison. Grace frowned again.  
"But... you're prisoners?" she asked, and the two nodded.

"It's all part of the deal," Wayne explained.  
"Phenomenal cosmic powers."

"Itty bitty living space."

"Not to mention the fact that I have to _share_ it with this nitwit," Kimball complained.

"But that's terrible!" Grace shrieked, "not the sharing part, obviously. I thought you were free."

They shook their heads, and raised their hands at the same time, putting their chained wrists on display.

"They don't disappear until a master wishes us free," said Kimball.

"Well, you can guess how often that happens," Wayne said, lowering his head, sadly.  
"I'll do it then," Patrick stated from behind Grace. All startled. Grace turned around to look at her brother, one of her eyebrows raised.

"I promise," Patrick said, and Wayne got excited. He ran over to Patrick, and shook his hand.

"Well, there's hopin'!" Wayne exclaimed.  
"Your two other wishes. Do you have an idea what you want to do with it?" Kimball asked. Patrick looked at Grace, who just shrugged.

"Well, there's this girl-"

"Whoops! No, Charmer, that's rule number two," Wayne interrupted.

"We can't make someone fall in love with somebody else."

"Oh, but come on!" Patrick exclaimed, "she's smart, and fun and-"

"Pretty?" Kimball deadpanned. Patrick nodded.  
"Beautiful," he sighed, "she's got these beautiful emerald eyes that I can just drown in. And her hair... and her smile."

Wayne poked Kimball's side. "Ami, c'est l'amour."

Kimball rolled his eyes.  
"Centuries ago, we had a pretty young lady as our master, and Kimball here had a slight crush on her."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"I wasn't in love with Summer, Wayne, forget it."

"But you were though-"

"This girl?" Grace interrupted the fight, and the two genies looked at her.

"Ah, right this girl," Wayne said, and coughed.  
"I'm no match-maker, Patty, but I'm pretty sure she might be interested by a charming prince – a prince like you."

Patrick's eyes widened. "That's brilliant! It could be a plan of myself!"

Wayne got a big smile on his face.

"Genies, I wish for you to make us nobles," Patrick wished, and Wayne shook his hands.

"Master, your wish is our command!" he exclaimed, and both genies snapped their fingers, and suddenly, Patrick and Grace were dressed in royal clothes. They looked down, and smiled.

"Impressive," Patrick said, but both genies shook their heads.

"That's not all!" Wayne exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.

"It isn't finished yet."

"Something is missing."

"But what?"

"Maybe-"

"This!" Kimball exclaimed, as he snapped his finger, and fireworks started lightning the oasis.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Sultan Minelli was reading a book, though that was a tough job, having the image of a crying Teresa in front of his eyes every single minute. He groaned.

The door to the big hall flung open, and in stepped John, followed by Timothy.

"Dammit John! I want to finish this book!" the Sultan exclaimed, and threw away the book. He would never know how that book ended, he was afraid.

"Sire, I think I have found a solution for your daughter's problems," John said, as he crossed the floor. The Sultan's attention was immediately caught.

"You have?"

John grabbed a scroll out of Timothy's hands, and unrolled it, pointing at one line in the article.

"If the princess has not chosen a husband by the appointed time, then the sultan shall choose for her," John read out loud. The Sultan immediately shook his head.

"No, no. No, John, Teresa hated the suitors. All of them! I can't let her marry someone she hates," the Sultan said firmly.

"But that can be solved, Your Greatness. There is more," John said, and focused back on the scroll. Both Timothy and the Sultan tried to read with the man, but he wouldn't let them, "here it reads that if in an event a suitable husband cannot be found, the princess is to be wed to..."  
"To who?" the other two men asked, and John shook his head.  
"Well, this is interesting."

"Who, John?"

"The Grand Vizier. And that would be," John said, pausing for a moment, before adding cheerfully, "me!"

The Sultan frowned, and was about to take over the scroll, when John hit the man's fingers, stopping him.

"How is that possible? I thought the princess could only marry a prince," the Sultan asked, genuinely confused.  
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, my liege," John said, and that moment, Timothy stepped in front of John, looking straightly into the Sultan's eyes, clearly hypnotizing him.

"Desperate... measures," the Sultan murmured.  
"You will order the princess to marry John here," Timothy ordered, and the Sultan nodded.

"I will... order her... to...," the Sultan said, before shaking his head frantically, getting his eyes off of Timothy's gaze, breaking the spell, and looked at John. "But you're so old!"

"She will marry me!" John exclaimed, and Timothy continued the spell.

"She... will marry...," and once again, the spell was broken, this time by a sudden loud music that came from outside, "wha... what was that?"

The Sultan jumped up, and moved to the doors. John shot Timothy a look, who just shrugged. John groaned, and followed the Sultan.

As the Sultan opened the massive doors, a big group of people and animals was standing there, smiling at the Sultan and his companions.

There were beautiful young girls, strong men, monkeys, tigers, a few elephants and even llamas.

In the midst of everything were two people, a blonde man and a pretty young woman with marvelous red hair, and they sat on top of two elephants.

The blonde man smiled at the Sultan, before motioning to the strong men to get him and the girl off the animals.

The man joined the woman at her side, grabbed her hand, and both bowed towards the Sultan.

The Sultan just looked at the two, clearly impressed, yet also confused since he had no idea who the two were. A young woman walked over to the Sultan, and handed a flashy brochure, before bowing and leaving.

The Sultan read the paper out loud. "Prince Jane and his sister, Princess Amanda?"

The two nodded.

"_Jane_?" Timothy asked, incredulously, "but that's a girl's na-"

John stopped the man by covering his mouth with his hand. They shared a look.

"I'm afraid so, Sir. It was a small joke from our parents. You may call me Simon if you want," the prince said, and walked over to the Sultan. The man in question shook his head.

"Jane will do. Why are you here, Prince Jane?" the Sultan asked, and Patrick smiled.

"Your Majesty, I have travelled from afar to seek for your daughter's hand," he explained.

"Of course you are. Prince Jane, meet my Royal Vizier, John," the Sultan said, pointing at said man, who just answered with a small nod of his head.

"I'm quite sure the majesty is overwhelmed by this... ecstatic entrance, but I'm afraid you cannot just walk in here and expect the-"

"Why, by all means, John! Stop it!" the Sultan exclaimed, who had in the meantime moved to take a look at the magic carpet the company had brought with them. "I don't suppose I might..."

Patrick smiled, and walked over to the Sultan, reaching out his hand. "Allow me."

He helped the Sultan on the carpet, which immediately flew away. The man let out a loud shriek, before that was replaced by shrieks of joy, with him flying through the room. The Sultan was behaving like a little child, which genuinely was a great sight.

John didn't enjoy it, though, since his carefully thought-through plan was being ruined by a stranger – which looked far too familiar for his liking.

"Sire, I must advise against this kind of-"

"Oh, John, suck it up, learn to live for once!" he exclaimed, and made another turn to prevent himself from crashing into the high wall.

John pinched the bridge of his nose, before looking up, straight into Patrick's eyes. He walked towards the prince – the sister long forgotten – with a judging gaze.  
"Where did you say you came from?"

"Ah, somewhere I'm sure you haven't been to. Yet," Patrick said, a big smile on his face again. John raised an eyebrow.  
"Try me," John said, and Patrick was about to open his mouth to think of something, when they heard a loud yell, followed by quite a few rumbles. They turned to where the sound came from, and found the Sultan had accidently hit Timothy, and the two were now laying on the floor, the carpet covering them. The Sultan was laughing, but Timothy was obviously not amused.

"Gracefully, Your Highness," John said dryly, and the Sultan laughed even harder.

"That was fun!" he exclaimed, and everybody rushed to the man's side to help him up. They didn't help Timothy up, though, and that made the man unbelievably irritated. The Sultan stood next to John again, and a big smile was plastered on the former's face.

"This is an interesting design, John! What a great youth – and a fine young man, too," the Sultan said, and moved closer to John, so that only he could hear him, "if you're lucky, John, maybe you don't have to marry Teresa."

"I don't trust him, Sire," whispered John to the Sultan, who just shrugged it off.

"I do. And believe me, John, I'm an excellent judge of character," the Sultan said, this time a bit louder. Timothy huffed behind John, but the latter one shot him an angry glare.

"Teresa will like this one, I can guarantee you that one!" the Sultan exclaimed, and laughed. Patrick's smile widened.

"And I'm sure I will like the Princess too!" he cheered.

"Your highness, no. I must intercede on Teresa's behalf," John said, grabbing the Sultan's arm. The man just looked at John, and shook his head. "This boy is no different than the others. What makes you think he is worthy of the princess?"

Patrick placed his hands on his hips, but Grace, who was standing next to him, pulled them down, making sure Patrick didn't do stupid things.

"Your majesty, I am Prince Jane!" he smiled, "Just let her meet me. I will win your daughter, I'm sure of it!"

"How dare you!" a gentle voice said not-so-gently, and everybody turned around. Princess Teresa was standing in the opening of the doors, her hands crossed over her body, her eyes visibly shooting fire.

"Oh dear," the Sultan murmured. Teresa stamped over to them.

"All of you! Standing here, deciding my future! I won't let my future be decided by you, I decide my own future! I'm not some price to win!" she hissed, finally arriving at her father. Yet she stopped with talking, and ran out of the hall.

Everybody was silent, except for John, who took the opportunity of silence to advice the Sultan – after all, that was his job.

"I think it's time to say goodbye to Prince _Jane_," he spat, and left the hall with Timothy. Patrick swallowed.

"Don't worry, Prince Jane, Teresa just needs some time," the Sultan reassured. Patrick wasn't so sure of that, though.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"What am I going to do now?" Patrick asked rhetorically, as he paced around the backyard of the palace. The entire group – consisting of Patrick, Grace, the two genies and the carpet – had gathered there, to discuss how the plan was going so far. The two genies were playing chess, Grace was brushing her hair, and the carpet was flying around. "Teresa won't even let me talk to her. I should have known I couldn't pull off this stupid prince wish."

Wayne and Kimball looked up from their game.  
"You ain't gonna blame us, are you?" Wayne asked. Patrick let out a sigh of desperation, and sunk to the floor. He shook his head.  
"Well, that sure is a good thing-" Kimball started, but Wayne snapped his finger, to glue Kimball's lips together like he had done also just earlier. Kimball looked at Wayne, then rolled his eyes and focused back on the chess game.

"Genies, I need your help," Patrick said. Wayne nodded, and got up.

"Alright, sparky, here's the deal. You wanna court the little lady, you gotta be a straight shooter, do ya follow me?" Wayne asked. Patrick frowned.  
"I don't think I am, no."  
Wayne sighed, and snapped his fingers, opening Kimball's lips again.  
"Wayne, no magic on each other!" Kimball exclaimed, but flashed to where the two were standing.

"Tell her the truth," Kimball said simply. Patrick coughed.  
"Ah, the truth, huh? Not gonna happen. That's the last thing I want to tell her. I can't tell her! She will certainly laugh at me if she finds out I'm just a street rat!"

"Patty, all jokes aside," Wayne said, placing a hand on Patrick's shoulder, "you wanna conquer the feisty princess, you oughtta be yourself."

"And that's exactly the last person I want to be. Okay, Gracie, how do I look?" Patrick asked, averting his eyes from the two genies who were undoubtedly disapproving his choices. His sister just sighed.  
"Like a prince," she said, and continued brushing her hair.

Patrick whistled to the carpet, who was with him in seconds. He jumped on the carpet, which brought Patrick to the princess' balcony. He climbed on the balustrade, and straightened his clothes.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Princess Teresa once again settled on her bed, finishing the needlework she had started hours ago. She didn't like needlework at all, it was the worst time spending she could ever imagine, since it made her think about things and she didn't want to think.

Yet now, it felt actually quite relaxing. She could trick her mind into only thinking about which stitches had to go where, instead of her complicated love life – for the little amount of love she had in her life.

"Princess Teresa?" she heard from afar, and she shot up, dropping the work.

"Who's there?" she asked, though of course she knew who was there.

"It's me – Prince Jane," the prince said, and she sighed.  
"I don't want to see you," she exclaimed from her room. It wasn't entirely a lie.

It was silent for a long time, and Teresa wondered if he was still there. She decided to exit her room and walk onto the balcony, but there he still was, standing against the balustrade. Overdressed, self-absorbed Prince Jane. Exactly the type of prince she seemed to attract.

She hugged her body, and cocked her head to the side.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her tone harsh. She practically _heard_ the prince swallowing.

"Just a few minutes with you. Please," he pleaded. Teresa somehow felt her heart drop at his voice, which sounded suddenly really small and weak. She sighed, and looked up at him.

That was strange... she recognized that look, but from where she didn't know.

"Are you sure I haven't seen you somewhere?" she asked. The prince immediately shook his head. "Because I'm sure I've seen you on the marketplace."

"No, that doesn't seem possible. I have servants who go to the marketplace for me. In fact, I even have servants for my servants to go to the marketplace for them. We can't have met," the prince said. Teresa eyed him suspiciously, before shrugging it off. She would find out what he was hiding eventually. After all, that was what she was best in.

She approached not him, but the balustrade. She placed her hands on it, not really leaning, and she looked over the city. She longed to be back there, the people looked so free and careless.

Patrick came to stand beside her, but kept a respectful distance, since he noticed too she wasn't too fond of him.

"Princess Teresa?" Jane asked, unsure. Teresa turned her head to look at him.

"Yes?"

"You're very... beautiful," he said, and she smiled faintly.

"I'm rich too, you know?" Teresa countered, and she noticed she'd caught the prince off guard.

"Yes, I guess," the prince said.

"The daughter of a sultan."

"I know."

"A fine prize for any prince to marry."

The prince coughed, and looked at her. She smiled innocently at him.

"Right... Uhm, a prince like me," he said.

"Right, a prince like you. And every other stuffed shirt, swaggering, peacock I've met!" she spat out, and the prince startled at the sudden change of moods. She turned around, and walked away.

"Teresa," he managed to blur out. She raised her hand, not showing him her face.

"Go jump off a balcony or something," she hissed, and she heard a faint sigh behind her. It took a few seconds for her to get to her bedroom, and was about to push away the silk curtain separating her room from the warm outside air, when she again heard a sigh.

"You're right," the prince said, and she frowned.

"I am? About what?" she asked, her back still towards him.

"You aren't just some prize to be won. You deserve far more. You deserve someone who can give you love. And you deserve to be free to make your own choices," he said. Teresa frowned more. Why did he care so much about her? He didn't even know her. "I'll go now."

She turned around, just in time to see the prince jump off the balcony.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, running over to the balustrade. Had he just seriously jumped? Her breath started accelerating, and she began panicking.  
But when she leant over the ledge, she was both angry and surprised, for there was prince Jane, a careful smug smile on his lips, and beneath his feet a magic carpet. She had never in her life seen a magic carpet before, but she'd heard stories about it, so she assumed this had to be one.

She let out a sigh of relief.  
"Are you crazy?" she exclaimed. The prince shrugged, and the carpet lifted a bit in the air, getting the two on eye-level.

"Maybe just a bit," he admitted, and she suppressed a smile. He didn't need to know that she actually started to like him.

"Do you, uhm," he started, and averted his eyes to look at his not so interesting clothes, "care to join me on a carpet ride? It's magic, you know?"

She again suppressed a chuckle, yet she wasn't sure if this was appropriate, and if the carpet was safe enough.

"Don't worry, it's a qualified carpet," he said, apparently reading her mind. She couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her mouth, even if she wanted to.

He reached out his hand to her, palm up, and she looked at it for a moment, before he asked: "Do you trust me?"

She startled. "What?"

"Do you trust me?" the prince asked again.

A sly smile appeared on her lips. Of course. That was it. She knew she had seen this man.

"I guess," she answered. That was all the encouragement he needed. He grabbed her hand, and pulled her over the balustrade, onto the carpet. She let out a small shriek, but regained her composure rather quickly.

They flew away from the palace, and Teresa shot a look over her shoulder. Why was it that in her entire life, she had never left the palace, and suddenly, she makes a habit out of sneaking outside without her father knowing?

She felt Jane's hands on her waist, gently. She shot him a look.

"For your own safety, Teresa, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you," he said. She rolled her eyes, but leaned into his arms, and soon, she found herself unintentionally lost in his embrace. His hands rested lightly on her hips, and she scooped closer to him, her back touching his chest. She knew this felt better than it should.

Jane pointed at something that flashed by them, but strange enough, she didn't care.

"Do you always take strangers with you on your carpet?" Teresa asked, teasingly, and she felt him softly chuckling by the way his chest moved against her back.

"No," he replied, his voice cheerfully, "but I was glad to make an exception for you."

She rolled her eyes, though she knew that it wasn't exactly bad.

She sat up straight, pushing away from him, and turned around to face him.

"What is it truly that makes you want to marry me, _Jane_?" she asked.

This was unexpected, Teresa could read it in his eyes.

"Because... Because you're beautiful," he started, and she rolled her eyes.

"Only beautiful, huh?" she asked. He shook his head.  
"You're gentle, sweet, kind. You put other's safety first, then yours."

Teresa smiled slyly.

"Tell me, Prince Jane, how do you know all that? I mean, we have never met before, have we?"

"Of course not, Teresa. I can see it in your eyes. They're very easy to read, my dear. And they're just as beautiful as their owner."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

Teresa sighed. She turned around again, this time not placing her body against his.

They arrived at a house somewhere outside the city – she couldn't be entirely sure, for one, she hadn't been outside the palace walls once, and two, she hadn't been paying attention on their way to here.

The prince got off of the carpet, and reached out his hand. She took it, though she did not like to be treated like this, as if she was helpless, and stood.

Jane sat down on the roof, and patted the place beside him. She rolled her eyes, and sat down.

They overlooked a city – her city? – where the civilians were cheering and laughing and dancing with each other. She did not know what they were celebrating, but it looked like a lot of fun.

"It's all so wonderful and sweet," she said.

"Yeah," Jane said beside her.

Should she do it? She had the chance for it now.

"Too bad Grace couldn't come with," she said, and he shrugged, clearly not realizing what she'd said.

"Meh. She doesn't like these parties anyways. She likes to stay home and-"

Jane's eyes widened, and Teresa took the opportunity to take of the turban he was wearing on his head.

"I knew it! You're the man from the marketplace! Why did you lie to me?" she asked, as she jumped up. He joined her stance.

"I'm sorry, Teresa-"

"Did you think I was stupid?"

"Of course no-"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Because believe me, I'm the best detective that exists on this planet – though I haven't met all of them," she rambled, then focused on the task on hand, "who are you? And only the truth, or I'll beat it out of you."

"The truth?" he asked, and she nodded. "The truth is... I sometimes dress as a commoner to escape the palace life. It gets forced up on you. I just wanted to escape the pressures. But I really am a prince!"

She looked at him, then sighed, and hugged her body.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. He slowly shrugged.

"I didn't think you would understand."

"I understand."

"I know you do."

She sighed again, and walked back to the carpet.

"I think it's best if we get back to the palace."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Patrick was in heaven.

He had never experienced something so perfect before. Her tiny body against his, utterly relaxed, completely trusting him. It was just too much for him. She had laughed a bit at his jokes, and her laugh and smile were just as perfect as her.

He was so much in love.

Yet when she had found out that he was the man from the marketplace, he started panicking. Of course, he would talk himself out of it, but it had become clear that she would eventually find out about what he was hiding. She had to find out anyways, for if he was to wed her, he wouldn't be able to keep something that big from her their entire lives.

After the small confrontation, she hadn't touched him anymore. He couldn't blame her, though. They didn't even know each other that well.

The carpet brought them back to the palace, and he, as the gentleman he was, helped her off it.

She turned, and leaned on the balustrade, a smile on her lips.

"Good night, my charming prince," she whispered. Why did this feel so good?  
"Good night, my dear," he replied.

Then suddenly, he felt it. They both felt it. Something inside both of them snapped.

He needed a kiss, just a small peck. Just one.

He leaned forward, but according to the carpet, it went too slow, so it pushed Patrick up, making him and Teresa link their lips sooner than they intended.

He immediately melted into her as soon as her full lips were on his. He placed his hand in the back of her neck, holding her in place, while he gently probed his tongue against her lips, begging her to open for him. She did, and they felt a spark as soon as their tongues touched.

She pulled back though, her cheeks flushed, and smiled sweetly at him, before turning around, into her bedroom.

Patrick looked after her with his eyes, noticing how she put a slight sway to her hips while walking away. His eyes were touching her body like it was a caress. As soon as she was inside her room, he almost collapsed, and the carpet was just fast enough to catch him. His whole body was screaming, cheering, partying.

He had kissed her. He had finally kissed her. And she had kissed him back, she hadn't protested against him.

He felt so happy he could easily die. His hands went up to his face to touch his lips, still recognizing how her lips had felt against them.

The carpet slowly descended until Patrick felt them touching the floor. His eyes had unconsciously fluttered shut.

"Oh, genies, that was just... it was... I...," he stammered, but he was sure they would understand him.

But as soon as he opened his eyes to look at them, a strong hand covered his mouth, preventing him from screaming.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the man that had forever haunted his nightmares approaching him.

"Well well, who do we have here? Isn't that the almighty and charming _Princess Jane_," John said, his voice sarcastic. If Patrick's hands and feet weren't tied, John most certainly wouldn't live to tell the tale.

"You do remind me of someone. Help me, my son," John offered, but Patrick shook his head.  
"Very well then," he said, turned around and walked away. He waved with his hands, before saying: "they were really beautiful, Patrick. Too bad they were on the wrong place at the wrong time."

John turned towards the guards that weren't holding Patrick.

"Make sure nobody can ever find him."

A guard hit Patrick in the head, and everything in front of his eyes went completely black.

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**A/N: Ah, a cliffhanger! :D Stay tuned to see if this will end in a happy end. (of course you already know if you've seen the movie, of which I'm pretty sure everybody has)**

**Let me know what you think in a REVIEW, thank you, and until next chapter! (which will be slightly later, since I still have to write that complete chapter, but I'll see when I'll post it :D) Hang on that cliff for a little longer, I'll be back with a new chapter! :D**


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: Oh boy... I feel so ashamed. I mean, I was on vacation, and I just blatantly forgot about this fic. I kept you hanging so long that your arms must feel sour. Maybe some of you are dead already. I'm so sorry. Let's skip to the story immediately, right?**

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Sadly.**

* * *

"Do you think Patrick can manage without us?" Kimball asked. He, Wayne and the carpet were playing magic darts. Nothing different from the human darts, only the fact that 'magic' was standing in front of the word.

Wayne turned around, and shrugged.  
"Dunno."

"To be fair, I don't think he will," Grace said from the corner of the room. She was watching the three play, but she was starting to get bored.

Wayne looked at her, one eyebrow raised.  
"Believe me. He's lived in a daze for the past eight years. And I'm sure he's living in one now. He doesn't think about what he's doing. He never did, and he never will."

Wayne immediately turned back to Kimball. "You know what that means, don't you?"

Kimball sighed.

"I'm afraid so."

"Let's find that charmer."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"You got something?" Wayne asked as he and Kimball met after a lot of flashes. Kimball shook his head.  
"I can't believe it. How can you lose a human? He wasn't going anywhere because of that feisty princess, for crying out loud!" Wayne bellowed. Kimball raised his arms in defense.  
"I'm on your side, idiot."

"I know you are."

"Then stop screaming at me like that."

Wayne sighed. "Let's try it one more time."

They snapped their fingers and were under water. Kimball raised his eyebrows at Wayne, but shrugged it off. Yet when they turned around, they saw familiar blonde curls, and they gasped.

"No no no," Wayne said, for that was the only thing he could say. Kimball flashed over to Patrick, and shook his shoulders.

"Patrick! Patrick, wake up!" he exclaimed, but no reply.  
"You can't cheat on this one, Patty!" Wayne yelled from behind Kimball.

"We can't help you unless you make a wish!"

"You only have to say-"

"Genies, I want you to save my life."

"Okay? Patty!" Wayne shrieked, and shook Patrick's shoulders too. Patrick lowered his head, which only showed more that the man was unconscious.

"I'll take that as a yes!" Kimball exclaimed, and both genies snapped their fingers, creating a giant submarine that brought all of them to the surface, before Wayne and Kimball grabbed Patrick's arms and pulled him on the shore. The genies looked at the man, not knowing what to do, before he awoke and coughed violently to get rid of the water in his lungs.

When he looked up, he looked into the eyes of the genies, and he smiled faintly.

"Uhm, I...," he started, but seemed to be at a loss of words, so he just flung his arms around them, hugging them tight.

"Thank you," he whispered, and the two genies – even Kimball, though it was hardly visible – smiled.

"You're welcome, Romeo," Kimball deadpanned.  
"Though you must never ever scare us like that again. For it will cause so much pain to both Grace and the feisty princess."

Patrick sighed.  
"I didn't exactly plan this, Wayne. I... I was... caught off guard, for a second. I wasn't myself completely. It won't happen again," Patrick explained.  
"Hey, that's okay, Patty."

"It was the princess?" Kimball asked. Patrick shook his head.

"No, she didn't do this-"

"No, that's not what I mean. You lost focus because of her."

Patrick looked down at the floor.

"Did you kiss?" Wayne asked, and Patrick smiled.  
"Yes, in fact, we did."

"Great," Kimball said, less enthusiastic than it should have been, but enthusiastic enough for him.

"They grow up so fast," Wayne sighed, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Patty, I'm getting really fond of you. Not that we have to pick out curtains or something."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Teresa fell face forward onto her bed.

She was overjoyed, in heaven. Nothing that she had ever experienced in her lonely locked up life had felt so good.

They had kissed. And how. Her lips were still glowing.

She rolled over to lay on her back, and sighed contently. Finally things were going like she wanted them to go.

"Teresa," she heard her father's voice, and Teresa jumped up.

"Oh Father... I... I just had the most wonderful time! I'm so happy," she said, followed by once again a content sigh. Her father nodded.

"You should be, Teresa," he said, and only now Teresa noticed how monotone his voice was. Different from his usual excited voice. "I have chosen a husband for you."

Teresa froze.  
"What... What do you mean?"

"You will wed John," he said, and opened the door further, to reveal John standing next to the Sultan. Teresa gasped, and John smiled.

"I see you're speechless, my princess. That's a fine quality in a wife-"

"I will never marry you!" she spat to John, and turned to her father.

"Father, I want to marry Prince Jane," Teresa said, almost panicking now, and she never panicked. John got a sly smile on his face.

"The prince left, my princess," John said. Teresa frowned.

"Better check that crystal ball of yours, John!" a familiar voice said from the other end of the room. They all turned towards it, and Teresa smiled.

"Prince Jane!" exclaimed she. John's and Timothy's mouths fell wide open.

"What the he-" Timothy started, but Patrick ran down the floor to the group of people there.

"Tell them all that happened, John," said Patrick. "He tried to have me killed."

John's eyes widened once again. "What? That's rubbish. That's not true, Your Majesty."

Timothy walked over to the Sultan, catching his gaze and deepening the hypnosis. "He's obviously lying, isn't he, Your Greatness?"

"Obviously... lying...," Minelli murmured.

Patrick then suddenly saw what Timothy was doing. The devil. Patrick had done it too back in the days, but didn't dare doing it again. It had only resulted in bad things and he wasn't a bad person.

"What is wrong with you, Father?" asked Teresa, as she slowly approached the man. Patrick gently pushed her away, walking over to the Sultan too.

"I know it," he said, hit Timothy in the head – though he didn't want to do it – causing the man to fall backwards onto the floor. Surprisingly, that seemed to be the trigger to the hypnosis and the Sultan shook his head, coming out of the spell.

"Your Highness, Timothy here has been hypnotizing you. While you trusted him, they misused your trust and used it to control you for their likings."

The Sultan's eyes widened, and looked at John.  
"What? John, is that true? You, you traitor!"

The Sultan approached John, his eyes shooting fire, since he despised traitors. Patrick and Teresa followed him.

John looked at his disciple that had been knocked out, and then at the trio that quickly approached him. He swung his arms in the air as defense.

"Your Majesty, I'm sure this all can be explained-"

"Guards!" exclaimed Minelli, and they came within seconds. Patrick saw John's gaze going from his face to his belt, and his heart clenched a bit as he realized what the man was looking at.

"Arrest John at once," ordered the Sultan, and the guards nodded, grabbing hold of John's arms.

"This is not over yet, boy," John exclaimed, before grabbing something from his coat and throwing it on the floor. Suddenly, a big, red cloud covered the spot where John and the guards were standing. As soon as the cloud was gone, so was John.

The Sultan groaned, and scolded the guards. "Find him! Find him already!"

The guards started running out of the room, frantically searching for John.

Patrick turned to Teresa. "You alright?"

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She approached him slowly, briefly touching his arms.

"Yes," she whispered. He let out a breath of relief, before Teresa leaned in to kiss him. He felt the butterflies in his stomach making somersaults once again, the whole fiasco with John and his almost drowning forgotten.

Patrick bowed down to kiss her too, when-

"I can't believe it! John, my most trusted counselor, plotting against me all this time. Just horrible. Despicable. How will I ever-" the Sultan rambled, but then saw the couple. His eyes widened immediately, his outrage suddenly leaving him, and there appeared a genuine smile on his face, the same smile as Teresa had.

"Can it be true? My daughter has finally chosen a suitor?" he asked. Teresa looked at Patrick, her heart warming as she did, and she nodded. That was when the Sultan started rambling, and Patrick and Teresa just looked at him, quite enjoying the sight. "Ha! Ha ha! Praise God! Yes! You brilliant boy, I could kiss you! I won't, though, I'll leave that to my daughter... You two will be wed at once! Yes, yes. And you'll be happy and prosperous, and then my boy, you will be sultan!"

Patrick felt his heart plummet. "Sultan?"

"Ah, but yes, my boy! You're just what this kingdom needs! Oh, I'm so happy!" the Sultan exclaimed, dancing out of the room. Patrick looked at the floor.

He didn't want to be Sultan. He couldn't cope with the fact that he would have to lie to Teresa the rest of his life. He wasn't a real noble, he couldn't marry the princess, even if he would want it. He suddenly started to regret starting this plan. He would only cause Teresa sadness. Which she didn't deserve, not at all.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"I knew it. I knew it!" John exclaimed while he paced up and down in his secret hide-out. Timothy had regained consciousness a few minutes after the nobles had left, and had come to the place immediately.

"What did you know, oh Great One?"

"That stuck up Princess Jane is just the ragged urchin Patrick."

Timothy's eyes widened. "Really?"

"He has the lamp, Timothy."

"Why that miserable-"

"You are going to relief him of it, Timothy. You understand me?"

Timothy just stared at his master. "Me?"

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"Sultan. They want me to be _Sultan_?"

Grace rolled her eyes, and sighed. "_Yes_, Patrick, _yes_, you are going to be _Sultan_. Now would you please be _quiet_ for once!"

"Sultan..."

"Hooray!" Wayne exclaimed as he and Kimball zapped into Patrick's current room. Patrick and Grace startled. "Sorry."

"Hail the conquering hero," Kimball said, probably less enthusiastic than Wayne and him had practiced before they so rudely interrupted the silence. Wayne shot him a brief look, before looking at Patrick again, a big smile on his face. Patrick, on the other hand looked less happy.

"Okay, Paaaaatriiiick," Wayne said, exaggeratingly nice. Grace rolled her eyes, but Patrick just kept looking sad. "You've just won the heart of the princess, Patrick. What are you gonna do now?"

Patrick looked up at Wayne, shook his head and sighed. "I..."

Kimball walked towards Patrick, who had now helplessly fallen face-first onto his bed. Kimball looked reluctant, like he didn't want to be here because there was too much emotion.

"Let me help you," Kimball started, rolling his eyes already at the prospect of what he was going to say now, "Your line is: 'I'm going to free the Genies.'"

Wayne smiled, obviously impressed by how that sounded from Kimball's lips.

"Anytime," Wayne added, while sitting down on an invisible chair and crossing his arms and legs, waving his hand to indicate that he had time.

"I can't," Patrick mumbled into his mattress.

"Of course you can! You just go: "Genies, I wish you free.""

"I'm serious, Wayne! Look, I'm sorry. I really am! But they want to make me sultan-no! They want to make _Prince Jane_ sultan... I... Without you, I'm just Patrick, okay?"

"But Patty; you won!" Wayne exclaimed.

"With _your_ help! I did nothing on my own!"

"Yes, you did, Patrick. The princess doesn't love the prince and all his belongings, she loves _you_," Grace said from the corner of the room. All three men turned towards her.

"Keep out of this!" they all exclaimed, and Grace just raised her hands in defense, rolling her eyes and focusing back on combing her hair, like always. These men were just children, unbelievable.

"If Teresa finds out... I'll lose her. I lost Angela already. I can't lose Teresa too. I... I'm sorry, but I can't wish you free."

Both genies gasped, and then raised their hands. They sighed.

"Hey, we understand," said Kimball.

"After all, you've lied to basically everyone."

"We were starting to feel left out."

The genies were really good in sarcasm, Patrick had to give them that. He turned around onto his back, and when he looked at the now empty space in the room, he sighed again. He looked at Grace, who just shrugged.  
"It's your own fault, Patrick."

"But-"

"Don't pull that act on me, Patrick," she said, raising one hand to stop him with talking. She sighed. "Look, I love you, Patrick. But you should have went for it as yourself. Not this Prince Jane you're forging. She liked you too when you were just you."

"Grace-"

"Could you stop interrupting me? You know what Mum always told us-"

"Keep her out of this."

Grace looked at Patrick, one eyebrow raised. "Why would you push her out of your mind like that? She's our _Mother_, Patrick!"

Patrick sighed.

"She would have wanted you to be honest, Patrick," she said, almost a whisper now, for Patrick had to focus to really hear it. "She doesn't want you to lie about who you are."

Patrick looked at his lap, and swallowed.

"And I can't imagine Teresa would want you to lie about that either. Tell her the truth, Patrick, or I'll tell her."

"Okay."

Patrick heard Grace coming closer, and then felt her tender hands on his shoulders. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

A knock on the door came.

"God... What?" John exclaimed, and when he turned, the door had already been opened. His apprentice was standing there, a satisfied smile on his face, and John rolled his eyes.

"Why did you-"

Timothy cut off John by lifting his arms, showing the exact reason of interrupting John – if you ever did interrupt John, you could only have a justifiable reason, or else you were dead.

John's face lit up.  
"I love the way you sneak, Timothy."

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

"Now go for it, Tiger. You only need to tell her, remember? That's all," Grace said, and pushed him in front of her, away from the silence of the palace rooms and onto the balcony, where Patrick had a clear view of the entire square underneath the palace. He felt his heart plummet.

"That's all?" he exclaimed to Grace, who didn't hear him, but just nodded and lifted her thumbs to encourage him. Teresa grabbed Patrick's wrist as soon as she saw him.

"Finally, you're here. I thought you wouldn't come."

"Teresa, I-"

"Hush," Teresa said, "the whole kingdom has turned out for father's announcement."

Patrick started to panic. Why would she listen?

"No, Teresa, I need to tell you something!"

"That's not important now, Patrick. Good luck!" she said, and pushed him to the edge of the balcony, almost over it, but Patrick was just in time to stop himself from dropping down. He took in a deep breath of air.

"People of Sacrabah! My daughter Teresa has finally chosen a suitor!"

The crowd cheered, but Patrick felt as if he was about to throw up.

"Prince Jane!"

The crowd now almost roared, and Patrick blinked.

"Oh boy."

* * *

**A/N: I really wanted to make this chapter longer, but since I already kept you hanging for so long, I thought I'd just post what I had now :D.**

**Let me know if this story is still not getting stupid! In a REVIEW!**


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: Okay, I'm sorry for the long wait on this story. You know, the past chapters were a lot easier for I could use mainly the movie as main idea. In this chapter, I made an entire own The Mentalist version of it, and it's not the end, I'm afraid. Though we're certainly getting there, don't worry.**

**People who keep reading my stories will know that I just recently started a new course and that's taking ****_sooo_**** much energy of me. So, there you have your answer as to why exactly this chapter was delayed with almost a month.**

**Oh, and this chapter is seriously weird. Just a fair warning.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

"You know, Patty," Wayne said as he and Kimball were once again ripped out of their lamp. Honestly, it was annoying them so much, masters that thought that they could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, without checking on the genies before they did it. "I'm getting reallyyyyyy..."

There, in front of the two, was standing a tall man, not in any way looking like Patrick. Wayne's jaw dropped.

"I don't think it's him," Kimball deadpanned, and Wayne made a note to himself to roll his eyes at that later. Now was not the time.

"No, no, you're not Patrick. Patrick is not a tall, dark and sinister ugly man."

An eyebrow of the man twitched slightly, but just enough for the two genies to see it. Apparently, he didn't do enthusiastic.

The man took in a deep, firm breath, and crossed his arms. The man behind the sinister man did the same, and the two genies startled a bit at the fact that they hadn't seen him standing there.

"I am your master now!" the sinister man roared, and Wayne's face cringed.

"Yeah, I was afraid that would happen yes," Wayne murmured.

"Genies, grant me my first wish at last!"

"Master, I-"

"I want all my helpers to be here!" the sinister man exclaimed, and Wayne turned to Kimball, who, for the first time since ever expressed emotions on his face. They both knew it: this was no good.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Teresa grabbed hold of Patrick's hand, and he smiled, despite himself, despite his guilty conscious.

Patrick didn't focus on what the Sultan said. His words were fake anyways. Instead, he just looked next to him, to the beautiful woman at his side. Who he didn't deserve, obviously. She was too good for him.

Teresa turned her head, and smiled when she saw that he was already watching her. She gently squeezed his hand.

"Don't be scared," Teresa said, and Patrick sighed. He had all right to be scared. He was betraying the woman he was in love with, he was fighting with the genies and Grace. Really, his life had never been better.

He pulled back his hand, his guilty conscious too great now and he didn't want to hurt Teresa, not more than he already did or had done.

She looked at him, a frown on her face since she didn't know what she'd done wrong for him to let go suddenly.

Patrick's heart clenched, but he didn't do anything against it.

"And now, I'll give the word to Patrick!" they heard the sultan say, and Patrick's heart plummeted. The sultan walked over to Patrick, briefly taking him aside.  
"Nothing can go wrong, Jane. You only need to tell the crowd how much you love my daughter. An official proposal can come later."

Patrick's body once again tensed. He looked around him, to see if there was any way of escaping this slow death, but he was trapped. He took in a shaky breath, before he walked to the balustrade, the thousands of people falling completely silent when he raised his hand.

He looked over at Teresa, who was still confused, and he sighed.

"People of Sacrabah...," he started, but fell silent too. "I can't do this. I'm in love with Teresa, she's truly the love of my life, but I can't lie to her."

"Jane? What do you mean?" Teresa asked, joining the confused mood of the crowd. She joined him at his side, and Patrick turned towards her.

"I'm sorry, Teresa. I didn't mean to lie to you-"

"Don't listen to that brat!" a loud voice exclaimed, and the three people on the balcony turned towards where it came from. None other than John appeared on the scene too, and Patrick knew that this was going to be not what he wanted.

"John, what are you doing here?" Sultan Minelli asked, incredulously, but the aforementioned just raised his hand to stop the older man.

"I'm here to inform you, Your Highness, for that's my job description. This man, who calls himself _Princess Jane_, is _not_ who he says he is!"

Sultan Minelli straightened his back and approached John.  
"John, I demand you-"

John clapped with his hands just once, and more people got onto the balcony. Teresa stood now in front of Patrick, for some reason trying to protect him though she knew as well that that was not necessary.

"Your Highness, Princess Teresa, meet my lovely apprentices. They are, as I like to say, real gems."

The two inspected the people. Their eyes stopped scanning with the last person who was standing next to John. They'd seen that woman sometimes in the castle. If they could recall correctly, she claimed to be John's 'love interest'.

"Ah, so you recognize her. This, my dear friends, is Lorelei. I'm happy that you meet her all now. Timothy," John said, his voice in the tone of an order, and said man nodded. The few men that were among John's helpers walked over to the Sultan and Teresa, and grabbed them in their holds. The Sultan didn't struggle to get loose, where Teresa did.

"Let me go!"

"I'm sure you're all interested to know as to _why_ this is all suddenly happening. Yes, I was explaining things. Princess Jane here is not whom he seems, and so on, and so forth. I can hear you ask, my dear princess, who is he then? A quick reminder," he said, and motioned to the door, where the genies where now suddenly standing. They reluctantly nodded, before they snapped their fingers and transformed Patrick back to himself. Patrick just stood there, defeated.

"Yes, my dear princess, this is Patrick. I'm sure you've met him. You see, I've met him too. Well, not me and him, exactly. Patrick's wife and daughter."

Teresa frowned, and John chuckled faintly.

"Yeah, you heard that correctly. Though they are not as... lively, as you are now."

"What the hell do you mean, John?" Teresa asked. It surprised everybody that she could stay so calm, considering the circumstances.

"Patrick once had a family, Teresa. A lovely wife and daughter... they didn't listen to him, though. He told them to never go to the desert. They saw more than I'd wanted them too... Anyways, on to the reason of him lying. This," he said, waving to the door once again, showing Grace, in the hands of two of John's men, "is Grace. Yes, Grace... His little sister. No, he didn't lie about that, trust me. Grace here knows everything about Patrick. She also knows that Patrick made a silent vow to never love a woman like he loved Angela again. Never. Never ever. Interesting, isn't it?"

"Why would that be interesting?" Teresa asked, her voice almost sarcastic, mocking. John laughed softly. He walked over to her, their faces inches apart.

"Because he loves you, my dear," he whispered, and Teresa swallowed. He took a step backwards, addressing the entire group now.  
"Now, isn't that intriguing? Such a great thing, love. Well, from one side, because Patrick doesn't love Teresa. It's all a lie. Your Highness," he said, and turned to Sultan Minelli again, "this man is a traitor. And I demand he'd be put in the dungeons for life!"

The Sultan just shook his head.  
"Why would I do that, John?"

"Why, because he was planning on killing you an your daughter, of course! And because of a whole lot of other felonies; witchcraft, robberies... I'm sure there's something between all of these crimes that should move you to arresting this man."

The Sultan looked at Patrick, who looked at Teresa, but his face was full of shame.

"Jane?" Teresa whispered, and Patrick swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Teresa. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to hurt you-"

"How touching!" John interrupted. "Not interesting! Sultan, what are you going to do with this traitor?"

The Sultan looked at his daughter, and sighed. "Arrest him."

John's helpers did, bringing him off the balcony, encouraged by a booing crowd on the big square. Now that the main reason for Teresa's breathing was gone, she complied to the forceful hold the people had on her.

John sighed, contently, and walked over to the balustrade. Then he acted as if he was shocked, turning towards the sultan again.  
"My lord! Good God, these people are here for a wedding, aren't they?"

The Sultan shook his head. "Engagement, actually-"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," John interrupted, and walked over to Teresa, who was staring at the ground. He put his fingers under her chin, jerking her head up so that she could look into his eyes.

"So much beauty," John breathed, "it would be such a shame if all of that beauty gets lost by one selfish, arrogant bastard that pretends to love you-"

Teresa stopped him by surprising everybody, laughing so hard that it was almost heart-breaking, considering the circumstances.

When she was done laughing, she looked into John's ugly face again, and huffed.

"You think you know what love is. Trust me, you don't. You're just a miserable, piece of-"

This time, John silenced her by reaching out and hitting her head full force, causing Teresa to bend backwards into the men's arms. For a second there, everybody feared she was unconscious, but she opened her eyes rather quickly. Now that she was leaning on the men holding her, she could kick with her feet and pushed John off balance. A wave of collective gasps rose through the crowd as they witnessed what was happening. Obviously they'd never seen their princess this way.

"You bitch," they heard John murmur, before he rose to his feet and walked over to Teresa again. He grasped her arm, forcefully, and Teresa let out a small yelp at the pain the grasp gave her.

"You'd better be happy with the effort I'm putting in saving you, Teresa. Many women would kill to marry me."

Teresa huffed, though less certain than she'd wanted it to be.

John sighed an exaggerated sigh.

"Now what do we do with you?" he asked. He put his finger against his chin, looking up. Then, his eyes lit up. "Why yes, I know it! _You_ are going to be my princess, whether you like it or not."

Teresa looked at him, and got a small, almost wicked grin on her face. John frowned as soon as he saw.

"Why, John, why would you think I wouldn't want to wed you?"

John was obviously startled, for he knew for sure he had to force Teresa into marrying him. But he recovered rather quickly, and smiled contently. He walked in on Teresa, his face once again inches from hers. She didn't shy away from him, just moved closer for as much that was possible since John's helpers were holding her firmly in place.

John coughed awkwardly, and stepped backwards a few feet. He looked around the group.

"Why don't we go somewhere less... public, my princess?" John asked, and Teresa smiled.

"I wouldn't be able to resist, of course," she lied.

- Patrick and the magic lamp -

Patrick hit the hard, iron bars of his little cell.

He knew it would come to this – more, _could_ come to this – but still he'd taken the risk. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. John would undoubtedly hurt Teresa now. He groaned as the memories of Angela and Charlotte's butchered bodies came back to him. He didn't want to see Teresa's body like that too, her beautiful, tiny body wasn't allowed to have any scratches on it, for these scratches would also go to her soul and his and damage them even more.

He hated himself. He'd hurt not only himself, but Teresa too-

Was that her chuckle? Patrick ran to the bars on an instant, and focused on the sound. Yes, it was!  
But he could also recognize the sound of John's voice, and he growled silently.

"Is this really the only private room in this castle?" Patrick heard John ask.

"It is. Want me to check it for you?"

The door to the dungeons opened, and Teresa entered the room. She shot a quick look at him, their eyes meeting and Patrick felt instantly happier, for he could see in her emerald eyes that she was not entirely angry at him, just a bit. He would take care of that later.

She placed a finger over her lips briefly, telling him to be quiet and still, before she opened the door for John, who stepped inside without hesitance. As soon as she closed the door, John had her pinned against it, their lips linked.

Patrick felt his heart clench, but smiled faintly when he saw Teresa's eyes were open, looking at him instead of focusing on the kiss. John's lips left hers to place sweet kisses in his neck.

Teresa's hands left John's back quickly, to point at the bars of Patrick's cell, and then pointed at John's neck. Patrick frowned softly, before his eyes lit up and he nodded almost frantically, understanding her plan.

Teresa placed her hands on John's back again, faking a slight pleasure. John linked their lips again, and Teresa decided to take matters into her own hands. This was taking too long anyways.

She made John walk backwards and pushed him against the bars. John let out a small groan, and Teresa smiled.

Yet just when John's hands moved to her waist, a hand went around John's neck, forcefully yanking his head against the bars. Teresa could see his eyes widening, before the impact of the crash made John fall to the floor and his eyes closed immediately.

Patrick and Teresa stared at each other for a few seconds, before they focused on John's seemingly motionless body.

"He's not... dead, is he?" Patrick asked. Teresa knelt down beside John, felt for a pulse and sighed.

"No, unfortunately not."

Then, they were silent, looking at the unconscious John. Red John. The man everybody feared.

"I'm sorry, Teresa," Patrick whispered, his voice small, and Teresa closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Patrick was frantically blinking with his eyes to get rid of the threatening tears.

Teresa walked to the bars, and her face was suddenly inches away from his face. She could feel his warm breath caressing her face, and it sent pleasurable shivers down her spine.

"What happened in your past, Patrick?" she asked.

Patrick reached through the bars to gently touch her face, tracing her lips.

"It's not important-"

"It is, Patrick."

Patrick hesitated, and Teresa sighed.

"When I was twelve, my mother died. Horse riding accident. My father hasn't been quite the same ever since. My brothers left Sacrabah because of it. I wanted to stay with my father because I felt that it was my duty, though I love my father all the same. I wanted nothing else than escape Sacrabah too, be happy somewhere and not being a princess, to just be normal for once."

Patrick tucked a strand of hair behind Teresa's ear, and let out a small sigh, knowing he'd lost.

"I had a beautiful family once. A wife, Angela, and a daughter, Charlotte. Until that piece of garbage," he said, pointing at John, "decided he could play for God and kill them. I... I am not particularly good with emotions... and... and well..."

"Why couldn't you just tell me, Patrick? You know that I could've helped you-"  
"With what, Teresa?"

Teresa crossed her arms, and sighed again. "I don't know..."

"I'm sorry, Teresa, for lying to you. I really didn't want to. But I figured that you wouldn't like me if I was my boring self, so... no, I'm sorry, and there's really no reason that you would forgive me."

John chose that exact moment to begin stirring, and Patrick and Teresa both jumped.

"Teresa...," John murmured. Patrick looked at her, rather panicked. Teresa shook her head faintly, brushed a curl out of Patrick's face.

"I love you, Patrick," she said, matter-of-factly. They heard John huffing.

"How sweet-"

Teresa interrupted him by a well-placed punch in the side with her foot. John doubled over, groaning, and Patrick suppressed a small smile.

"Don't laugh, Patrick, I did that for you."  
Patrick frowned.  
"For me? John can't do anything to me. I'm protected by these bars. You did it for yourself."

"So what if I did for myself? I can just die, is that what you're trying to say?"

Patrick raised his hands in defense. "No!"

Teresa eyed him suspiciously, before she rolled her eyes and looked down at John.

"I guess I'm going to search help for him," she said, on which Patrick nodded. She left the dungeon, and Patrick was left alone with his nemesis – who wouldn't hurt him now, obviously. But it was the thought that counted.

Much to Patrick's surprise, John casually stood up and faced Patrick. His heart plummeted.

"What's so great about her, Patrick? What's better than Angela?"

Patrick sighed, and cocked his head to the side.

"You can't compare them, John. You don't know Teresa. You didn't know Angela."

"You thought this through, didn't you, Patrick? Or did Grace help you-"

"You'd better leave Grace out of this. She has _nothing_ to do with any of it."

John smiled, but Patrick decided he did not like that smile.

"If she didn't have anything to do with it, why did you make her play along with your plan then?"

"Because she wanted to-"  
"Ah, she _wanted_ to. Yes. Okay," John said. He slumped a bit around the room, trying to impose Patrick, knowing it didn't work.

"I'm wondering, Patrick, why you are bothered by me so much. Look at me, Patrick," John said, pointing at himself, "I'm just a normal man. Did you think I was the devil in person, Patrick?"

Patrick sighed again, and turned around walking over to the wall, not bothering facing John.

"You did so great with your plan to get Teresa as your wife. Why let it fail? You were so far-"  
"For your information, I didn't fail. I just... made a detour."  
"A detour?" John repeated, then broke off into a hard laugh. "You've reached a dead-end, Patrick! Teresa will never love you. And even if she does, it's too late anyways."

Patrick frowned. "What do you mean, too late?"

Just then, Patrick heard the most pained scream he'd ever heard. Patrick almost felt the ground underneath him opening up, swallowing him and pulling him into the hot depths of the earth as he realized whose scream that was.

"Teresa!" Patrick exclaimed. John just looked at him, a satisfied smile on his face.

"You failed, Patrick. You're too late."

"What have you done to her?" Patrick asked, almost helplessly. John's smile only widened when he raised his arms in defense.  
"I did nothing, Patrick. I have been here all the time, haven't I? I couldn't have possibly done something-"

"Let me go!"

"Now come, Patrick. Do you genuinely think I would let you go-"

Patrick silenced him by grabbing the man at the hem of his dark cloak.

"If you don't bring me to Teresa, _right now_, I swear I will do everything to punish you. You will die a slow, painful and gory death. Nobody will mourn your death, let me guarantee you that. And yes, this is a threat," Patrick said, in a calm and icy matter. But John didn't give in. He just looked at Patrick, the same smile from moments ago on his lips.

"If you hurt me, you will never see Teresa again. You do realize that, don't you?"

Patrick's hold on his nemesis tightened.

"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here," Patrick hissed. John sighed, exaggeratingly, and pouted.  
"Very well then. I have to be honest, Patrick, I didn't expect you to act like this."

John reached into his dark cloak and got the key of the door out of it – Patrick didn't even _want_ to know _why_ John was carrying that with him – and unlocked the door.

What happened then, happened really fast. Patrick swung the door open, thumped towards John and slammed him against the wall. The glint of satisfaction left John's face rapidly as he was once again being thrown into the wall. Only Patrick had more strength, more force, and as he lifted his arm to deliver one final punch, John winched.

Patrick dropped his arm, and sighed.

"You're not worth it," he said simply, ushered John into the cell and closed the door behind the man. "If I'm going to hit you now, I'm going to prison and you're not worth that. Though I would want you to be punished for what you did to Angela and Charlotte, I can't risk the future I can build with Teresa by doing so. So _I_ am not going to punish you."

And with that, Patrick left John alone in the dungeons.

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**A/N: Let me know what you think in a REVIEW, thank you!**


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N: So! This is the last chapter of this stupid story, haha :D. Just read it and let me know if you want something added, want something explained, whatever**.** I'm here to answer your questions!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

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While walking – correction, _running_ – through the palace halls, Patrick couldn't shake the feeling that, despite Red John locked away, this was not the end yet. He had seen the amount of disciples the man had, and they now undoubtedly had Teresa.

"Teresa?" Patrick asked, desperately because he was lost, and was rewarded with a muffled groan. It sounded too low, so it couldn't be Teresa.

But he turned around, and his breath accelerated when he saw the sultan, bound and gagged, sitting against the wall, defeated.

Patrick rushed to the man, and released him.

"Thank you, Son. I'm not going to ask what you did to deceive us all, because I don't believe you had any bad intention. You were brave, Patrick, even if it was wrong what you did. You wanted my daughter with all you had, and you went past all existing laws to be with her. I can do nothing else than admire that."

Patrick reached out his hand and helped the old man stand up straight.

"Where is Teresa?" Patrick asked. Minelli pointed at the other end of the hall. Patrick followed where the finger went to, but saw nothing.

"They left through there," Minelli said, and swallowed immediately. Patrick knew exactly how the man felt, watching how his daughter might face her death. Patrick would do everything for Minelli not to see the butchered of Teresa, like Patrick had seen the butchered bodies of Angela and Charlotte.

"Your Highness, stay here and only here. I will be back."

The Sultan just nodded, and Patrick ran off into the direction the man had just pointed at.

When Patrick ran around the corner, though, he suddenly bumped into Grace, whose facial expression didn't exactly help calming Patrick down. Her eyes were red, and they were full of fear and pain. There were a few scratches on her face, her hair was disheveled, which, in any other situation, would mean the end for Grace. But not now.

"Patrick!" she exclaimed, and swung her arms around him. Patrick pulled her against him.

"Are you alright?" Patrick asked after a while. He loved Grace, but now that he knew she was safe, he definitely needed to find Teresa.

Grace nodded. She pulled away, and looked into his eyes.

"Teresa," she whispered.

"Where is she?" Patrick asked, perhaps a bit too insistent, but finding he didn't really care. He just _had_ to find her.

Grace pointed towards where the sultan had also pointed.

"Sultan Minelli is sitting there, against the wall. I want you to keep with him, okay?"

Grace nodded.  
Patrick ran off again.

He didn't know where he was running to, actually, even if Grace and the sultan had been sure Teresa was here somewhere. The fact that he couldn't find here made him doubt if the two were reliable in this situation.

Yet just when he was about to give up, he heard her scream somebody's name. His body tensed.  
"Where's John?" he heard somebody ask – probably Lorelei.

"I think he's-"

"Shut up, stupid genie, I don't care what you think."

Patrick didn't need more – though really everything would've have given him reason to barge into the room – and kicked the door off its hinges.

"Let them all go!" Patrick exclaimed, and everybody startled at his sudden intrusion. His eyes crossed Teresa briefly, and he felt relieved when he saw she wasn't hurting, wasn't sad, just angry. Not at him, but at all of this. And all these monsters.

"Well well... Now you're here, lover, I assume John's locked away, isn't he?" the dark-haired woman – Lorelei, he now recalled – said, walking over to him. Patrick merely nodded. Lorelei shook her head, and reached for her forehead briefly to get rid of her forming headache somehow.

"I knew he was incapable-"

"He's your master," Patrick stated. Lorelei looked up at him.

"He's _their_ master," she said, pointing at the other disciples. "He's my _lover_."

"Of course he is," Patrick said, followed by a cold, humorless chuckle. "He uses you, Lorelei. He doesn't love you."

Lorelei's eyes widened with anger. "How can you say something like that? Of course he loves me! We were set to marry-"

"Naïve," was all Patrick said, and now, Lorelei's eyes shot fire. She lift her hand to hit him in the face, when something pulled it back.

"Not today, Missy," Wayne whispered in her ear. All the disciples startled when they noticed her had somehow escaped.

Everything happened fast again: Wayne and Kimball took care of the disciples, tying them in all funny ways possible, while Patrick ran over to Teresa. She just smiled weakly at him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and she nodded. That made him so relieved he was ready to cry happy tears. He helped her on her feet.

"I thought I'd lost you to him," Patrick whispered, so only Teresa could hear it.

Teresa shook her head. "I may be a princess, but I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself."

Patrick smiled. "I know."

Something snapped inside Patrick then.

He bowed down and linked their lips, not minding the audience.

A gentle poke in the ribs made him pull away from Teresa, though reluctantly.

"Sorry to break the romance, Patty, but what do you want us to do with them?" Wayne asked. Patrick briefly smiled at Teresa, before turning towards the prisoners. He sighed.  
"Do whatever you want with them. Just don't kill them."

Wayne's eyes lit up with obvious glee. He looked at Kimball, who had his deadpan face on.

"No. I'm not going to turn them into ballerinas."

Wayne pouted, and Kimball rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Patrick smiled at the two.

Teresa pulled him with her to the corridor, in search for her father.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" Teresa asked when they passed the first corner. Patrick smiled, faintly.

"Would you have wanted me to kill him?"

Teresa frantically shook her head. His smile widened.  
"Then I didn't kill him."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious, I didn't kill him. First of all: I won't get Angela and Charlotte back with it. He doesn't deserve such a nice escape from a good punishment. I can't believe I'm saying this... Anyways, he works for the sultan. If I _did_ kill him, even if he killed many people, including my family, I would definitely go to jail and I don't want that. Then I can't be with _you_."

"Ah, don't tell me that- You know, just never mind. What I do wonder is how you got out of that cell."

Patrick shrugged. "He let me out."

"He did _what_?" Teresa asked, incredulously.

"You heard me. He let me out. I think he realized that he wasn't going to win anyways. And he thought that his helpers took care of you, my only sunshine. He thought he'd won."

Teresa sighed, and grabbed hold of Patrick's hand. "I'm glad this is over. And I'm glad I finally found out who _you_ are. Not Prince Jane."

"Meh, Jane was just like me. He sure looks like me. I would've told you eventually either way, Teresa. It would just have been after we got married."

"Yeah, like that's a good thing."

"Marrying you _is_."

Teresa rolled her eyes. This was going to be so annoying.

When they walked around the last corner, they immediately saw Grace and Minelli sitting beside each other, talking about stupid things, apparently, for they were both laughing candidly.

"It almost looks like nothing happened," Patrick sighed. Teresa squeezed his hand.

"Nothing _did_ happen, Patrick. We're back where we began this afternoon."

"Keep telling yourself that-"

"I'm serious, Patrick. Red John is gone. I hope it provides you with some sort of closure, because I won't be with somebody who is still married to his deceased wife. Don't get me wrong, I want you to be happy, but-"

"Marry me," Patrick said suddenly, and Teresa stopped mid-sentence.

"Excuse me?"

"Marry me, Teresa. Please," he whispered. Teresa shook her head faintly.

"We were going to marry anyways, Patrick-"

"I don't care. I never proposed to you. I love you, Teresa. I hope that everything that happened today proves that. Proves just how happy I am that you ran away from the palace, for I wouldn't have met you otherwise. I love you," Patrick breathed. Teresa looked at her father and Grace, who simply nodded, and then she looked back at Patrick.

"I will," she whispered back. "I will marry you."

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**A/N: FLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFF. Okay, so that was it, I guess :D.**

**Thanks for all the lovely readers on this story, I love you all SOOO much! ****Essebes****, ****Lothlorien Aeterna****, ****YuukiCross5****, ****Ladyof13Sorrows****, ****JulietKoike****, ****Moxiegirl13**** and all the guest reviewers! Also a big thanks for putting this story on one of your lists, or even putting ****_me_**** on your lists! Thanks so much!**

**The magic's over, so; 'Patrick and the magic lamp': OUT!**


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